Star of Hope: A New Star
by Umeko
Summary: 50 years have passed since Esther was crowned Queen of Albion. Abel Nightroad and Ion Fortuna continue their fight against Contra Mundi and the Rosenkreuz. Mission? Protect Esther's grandchild from the RCO. R and R welcome
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao (Rest in Peace). The anime and manga are based on his novel series. Actually, I have not read the novels. This fic is going to be based largely on the anime. If you are following the novel, just treat this as AU.

Terran lifespan 70 years (average). Methuselah lifespan at least 300 years (from anime). Crusnik lifespan 900 plus years

How will Abel of AX cope with losing his AX Terran colleagues and working with new ones? How did Catherina explain the return from the dead of one priest? How will Ion and a Crusnik get along? What about Esther? Is the Rosenkruz Orden really finished? How will the new generation of AX turn out?

This fic is set at least 50 years after the end of the anime.

* * *

**Prologue**

Deep under the Holy city, the crypt was silent. A man knelt by the metal and glass pod where a woman slept in eternal slumber. His snowy white hair was neatly tied back by a black ribbon that matched his ebony-coloured priest's robes. Sunlight streamed from some distant skylight high above them. His slender fingers skimmed the rosary beads as he prayed. The prayer was old, some say eternal. Before he and his siblings had even been conceived in that cold world of long ago, the words he now mouthed have been invoked as a plea to a higher power.

The prayers were not only for the woman he loved as a mother. They were also for his deceased comrades, many of whom had sacrificed their lives in their struggle against their common enemy. Contra Mundi, Rosenkruz… every time they crossed paths, he had failed to finish it.

"Abel?" For one moment, memories of a dark, blood-stained night came to him, the night when his solitary vigil was interrupted by the world outside. He met Catherina, a scared young girl then, and he promised himself to continue Lillith's work, protecting humans, working towards a lasting peace. "Abel?" The footsteps were closer now. He knew they were not Catherina's. Catherina Sforza has been dead for a few years now, the victim of a lingering illness that forced her eventual resignation as the head of AX. Even in her last days, she still exuded an air of quiet dignity and command.

His Crusnik hearing picked up a soft miaowing from the entrance of the crypt, a cat impatient for his mistress' return. Only one person in AX kept a black cat as her constant companion, or some ignoramuses in the Inquisition may claim, familiar. The new Head of AX was so different from Catherina. Subtle and unobtrusive, codenamed the White Witch, she was Reverend Mother Eris Wurzmeier.

"Abel, I'm sorry to intrude," she strolled into the pool of sunlight. When she had first met him, she was a scared little orphan girl. She later joined AX as a young nun. Her powers became more refined over the years. She supposed that was why most powerful witches in children's fairy tales are all old women. Eris need not use her power to tap into his thoughts. Father Nightroad always thought of his departed companions at such times.

"You are not alone, Father. You taught me that many years ago. Another thing I have learnt is that those who we loved and who loved us are always with us, here." Eris clasped her gloved hands over her heart. "Will you be joining His Holiness for the Mass tonight?"

Abel nodded. "How is His Holiness?"

"His health has been holding well with God's blessings. His last medical check didn't turn up any major problems. Just a bit of stiffness in the knees, and a slight vision problem that a good pair of glasses will put right," Eris replied matter-of-factly. Abel got to his feet.

"Farewell, Lillith," he whispered as he gave the pod one last look before leaving the crypt with Eris.

* * *

Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis, yawned and stretched. Dusk was falling. Night was the only time he was able to stroll the streets of the Holy city, barring an encounter with the Inquisition. There have been recent discussions in the College of Cardinals regarding the laws governing Terran and Methuselah relations. Thanks to the tireless efforts of the Pope, the Albion Queen and- Ion suspects – the Empress, Terran and Methuselah ties were at an all-time best. However, it was better to play safe given that some blockheads in the Inquisition might be still in the Dark Ages. 

He had grown a little taller and could pass for a 15-year-old Terran boy _or girl_. It was a crying shame he had inherited his Granny's feminine good looks. Ion ran a hand through his blond hair, a few more decades perhaps… _or perhaps not._ Once the bacilli in their blood are activated, Methuselahs age slower, much slower than Terrans of the same age. It was just as well. If you are going to live three centuries, you don't want to spend the last two in a wheelchair.

He pulled on his shirt and his boots. Their rooms at the AX headquarters were sparsely-furnished, which suited them fine as they spent most of their time away, using them about once very few years when business brought them to Rome. He walked quietly down the dim corridors. Other members of AX team would be moving around, talking, arguing, training and going about their business. Abel had left a copy of the morning paper on the small side-table in the corridor. Ion picked it up and skimmed through the headlines.

_Vatican Congratulates Albion on Newborn Prince. _

_A boy was born to the Crown Prince Gilbert and Princess Helena of Albion six days ago. Both mother and son are in good health and spirits. The couple christened their first child Percival at a simple baptismal ceremony in the Westminster Abbey. Her Majesty, Queen Esther of Albion, attended the ceremony… _

Esther was officially a grandmother. Esther, red-haired and blue-eyed, was his first love. Even after all this while his heart still held a special place for the redhead Terran. He smiled wryly. It was impossible between them. He was a high-born noble of the Empire. She was the Queen of Albion. His almost childish infatuation had mellowed to a deep friendship for her. Esther had married a Terran duke, whom she loved in her own way till death parted them. She had borne for the royal line of Albion two princes, Gilbert and Albert, and a daughter, the late Princess Laura.

It was more than ten years since they had met, in the aftermath of that terrible tragedy. The girlish roses in her cheeks had faded. Her red hair had turned white. Only her eyes remained unchanged, vibrant. Queen Esther has shunned the public eye lately, leaving the reins in the capable hands of her heir-apparent. Media speculation was rife regarding her health. He really ought to visit her again soon. They _don't live that long, you know,_ the Duchess of Kiev had told him once. The faces in AX have changed steadily over the years. New faces came as old ones left. If only, if only they could finish it! Every time, they had failed to uproot the source.

* * *

The Terran boy was sprawled facedown in the spreading pool of his own blood. The Vatican dogs were too busy attending to their own dead and the hysterical girl to pay heed to that other corpse. They were alone. Isaak knew Dietrich was beyond help. Blood was soaking the back of his uniform. Isaak nonchalantly flipped him over with the toe of a boot. The boy's eyes were glazed. His limbs flopped limply. He reminded Isaak of some discarded puppet… A bloody hole gaped in his chest. Isaak recognized the nature of the damage inflicted and left him there. _Why had Cain killed Dietrich?_

Isaak groaned and rose from his cavernous four-poster bed. He hated that arrogant upstart. He hated the way the boy wormed his way into the Orden… As the only Terran in the Orden, his loyalty is question. Pah, the boy only has loyalty to himself, forever mocking in his words and false smiles. There were times when he had fantasized about putting his hands on that scrawny neck and throttling the life out of him. So why was there a photo of that brat on his bedside table? It was not even a good one. Someone had taken it when Dietrich was a grubby-faced schoolboy in shorts and knee-high socks with a bored expression on his face. He had found it when clearing out the brat's belongings.

Cain's first words to him when he had asked about Dietrich were, "You should have built me better."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I decided to kill off Catherina Sforza in this fic because the manga hinted that she was suffering from some ailment. Eris' powers were quite stunning as a child, and I think she might have abilities similar to Sister Noelle. Ion is probably an unofficial AX member since he has joined Abel in his quest against Contra Mundi. I will be introducing the new members of AX in future chapters.

Regarding Dietrich, he's probably Terran (from the Star of Sorrow arc).


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters. Hopefully, they will blend well with the canon characters.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Ion smiled as he watched the banter between the pair in the workshop. A stoic Tres sat as a man in grimy coveralls tinkered with his arm. The man was chatting with a young woman. The young woman was translucent, a hologram projection. The pair seemingly ignored Ion's presence.

"Will Eris ever become a cardinal?"

"Never. One, the departed Medici and his lackeys put a motion that blocked any promotion of humans with not-so-regular powers beyond abbot some years back. Two, Eris has no wish to be a cardinal. Cardinals have to go on diplomatic trips. Eris always says 90 percent of diplomats are so false, they make her sick. She's happy just being an abbess. His Holiness has more than sufficient help from Cardinals Benedictia of Florence and Cardinal Niall of Erin for the diplomatic front. Only when _those people _are involved are we called in… There, Brother Tres, all fixed up. The coolant level's restored and you shouldn't be overheating now."

The android flexed his arm. "Acknowledged and affirmed."

The mechanic tore off his grimy coveralls to reveal a crisp priest's cassock. "Let's go to Mass. Father Abel is back, isn't he?" Ion nodded. "I better go pick up Professor from the nursing home. He would want to meet his friend," Peter declared. "Now where's my cane? Ha, there you are!" Peter picked up his sword-cane and strode out like an English gentleman. Sir Peter Neverland Walsh, an Albion knight, codename Apprentice, was a student of Professor Wordsworth.

The hologram-woman nodded. Her long hair was dark as ebony. The habit-like dress she wore was black instead of white. Carmen de Asturias, codenamed Magdalene, was the daughter of the departed Father Leon. Aging was not programmed into the Iron Maiden II system. Carmen ought to be around Eris' age or Peter's, yet she still kept the same youthful looks as the day her consciousness was linked to the system.

"How are things in the Baltic?" Carmen asked Ion about his last mission. "Fine. I spent most of my time hiding from the sun in a bunker. Can you believe they have twenty hours of daily sunshine this time of the year? Father Abel did most of the work. It was just a case of mass hysterics. Some villagers dug up a frozen corpse and mistook it for a vampire. Then they started turning on their own kind. Bonfires and all that nonsense. How can anyone be so obtuse?"

Carmen grinned mischievously and pointed in the general direction of the Inquisition barracks. "We have a glowing example here in Rome, in fact, 428 of them exactly." Ion shrugged. The Inquisition has not improved much since Petros and Paula retired. On contrary, it had become more militant under Francesco's successor. It often took the combined might and will of the pope and the College of Cardinals to stop the Cardinal Avignon from unleashing his Inquisition forces on those he accused of heresy.

Brother Tres stared out of the window at the path without speaking. Catherina used to walk up that path on her way to the HQ. He knew she was not going to walk up that path, ever. Finally, the android turned from the window. If Tres was programmed to shed tears, Ion supposed he would. "1504 seconds to Mass." Tres reported.

Ion never attended Mass in Rome. Too many Inquisition guards in attendance for the poor Methuselah's comfort. "Ion, I will keep you company, if you wish," Carmen smiled. The door suddenly burst open. The youngest member of the AX team stomped in spouting choice curses at the Inquisition. Thomas O'Cleary limped in bloodied from one of his many altercations with the Inquisition.

"Request status report." Tres asked nonchalantly. "A couple of scratches and bruised bones, you old tin pot. The cherub-faced teen collapsed on a bench. "Correction. I am HC-IIIX of the series of…" Tres started. Carmen giggled. Thomas always teased his colleagues mercilessly. Tres carefully dabbed at the boy's cut lip with a cotton swab. "Watch it, it hurts!" Thomas whined.

"Explain your actions," Tres continued.

"I was coming over when I passed a patrol. I overheard them calling Mother Eris a witch," Thomas plucked out his ominously blood-stained dagger from its sheath and flung it to the stained floor. "Oh dear…" Carmen rolled her eyes. "They called Brother Tres an outdated piece of junk and Miss Carmen an ill-brought up daughter of a jailbird-" Thomas continued his emotional and graphic description of his latest scrap. Carmen muttered darkly as she flickered out of sight. Ion knew the hot-tempered Carmen had gone to settle some scores her own way. True enough, the sprinklers went off in the Inquisition barracks with cries of confusion from the guards. The barrack lights blinked out as a coup de grace.

"Count, so the old man dragged you in," Thomas finally acknowledged Ion's presence with an impish grin. "I suppose I can take the night off since Father Abel's probably with Mother Eris, how about a sparring match?"

"With pleasure," Ion accepted the challenge.

"Negative. X-ray scan show fractured rib, mild concussion and bruised internal organs," Tres cut in. "Order bed rest. Also recommend you surrender the flask of wine in your cassock and return Count Ion his earring."

_What the-_ Ion felt his ears and realized to his amazement that in passing him, Thomas had deftly relieved him of his left earring. "Sorry, old habits die hard," The former thief dropped the pilfered earring on the table next to his surrendered flask. Mother Eris would have her hands full with their newest member when she gets back from Mass.

"Oh, there was a letter from Albion for you and the old priest. It came to Mother's orphanage last month. Mother Eris ordered me not to peek. I was bringing it over-." Thomas fished out a slightly crumpled and bloodstained envelope from his cassock.

_Esther..._ Ion silently took the envelope.

* * *

Cain Knightlord flexed his fingers, testing them. The body Isaak fashioned for him was functional, just barely. He must force his twin to hand over his body. Isaak leaned back against a pillar for support, wiping sweat off his brow. The raven-haired Magician was worn out from the effort of the past hours. The sessions always left him spent. Cain did not know the exact processes that went into creating his current body. Frankly, he did not care too much. It was a convenient temporary arrangement where he was concerned. 

_"Edelweiss, edelweiss. Every morning you greet me…"_ A light child's voice drifted down the dark corridor. Its owner skipped into the room. With her shining white frock and long pale blond hair, she appeared like an angel. "Lord Cain, Scherzie gave me a pearl necklace and Grandpa Fritz gave me a new doll!" The girl twirled and showed off the china doll and her pearl necklace. Now that child, pure Methuselah as she was, really irritated Isaak. Cain gave her a benevolent smile and patted her head like some kindly uncle. "How lovely, Lorelei. Now Uncle Isaak here will give you a rose."

Isaak plucked a rose from the vase on the mantelpiece. It was already wilting but he gave it to Lorelei all the same. "Thank you, Uncle Isaak." Before he could prevent it, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on his cheek. She then skipped out of the room humming happily. Lorelei Weiss Schultz was innocence and deviousness in one tiny package. Yet so utterly naïve and devoid of any sense of self-preservation. She reminded Isaak of one dead Terran boy. _One day she will get on Cain's wrong side and…_

"I hate brats," Isaak grumbled under his breath and lit his cigar. He shouldn't care too much about his fellow Orden members beyond what they could contribute to the organization.

"Face it, Isaak, you have soft spot for the little fraulein just like you had with von Lohengrin." Cain's gentle voice dripped menace. "One has to admit her powers are really promising. How did her debut performance in Vienna go?"

"Like a charm. Her audience turned on and killed each other. The police are keeping it under wraps but with a bit of fanning, we can have a civil-war in Austria. However, she cannot use her powers on Methuselahs."

"Cannot or will not? You know she has a most charming bias against Terrans." Leaving his words hanging in the air, Cain Knightlord glided out of the room.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

New AX members: I introduced 3 of them in this chapter. Peter appears in the anime canon as a little human boy in the Neverland episode. Carmen is Leon's daughter, whom he mentioned briefly in the Ghetto. Thomas is my own character. He is probably a little like a younger version of Leon. Carmen is like Sister Kate Scott with a bit of her father's personality. Peter is like the Professor. Tres is still around and he appears to be grieving for Catherina. In the manga, he is portrayed as being very loyal to Catherina. I heard that in the novel, Kate was an actual living person, not an AI. Her physical body is in a coma while her consciousness exists as the Iron Maiden battleship system. Carmen may have a similar reason why she is now in the Iron Maiden system..

Introduced a new RCO member too. Lorelei is inspired by a Germanic myth and the manga's Mermaid episode. In the myth, Lorelei is a maiden who bewitches sailors with her singing so they crash their ships on the rocks. I think you should know what the little fraulein's special power is now.

Fraulein – German for 'Miss'


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. This is based on the anime.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Albion. Royal Londinium Palace._

Her Majesty was nervous. Sir Virgil Walsh knew from the way she tapped her cane restlessly, and the way her fingers kept fluttering to the locket at her throat, the one that held a portrait of the late Princess Laura. Methuselahs were just starting to emerge from obscurity and be recognized as Albion subjects and contributors to the kingdom. Outside the UV-filtered windows, the city of Londinium was going about its business, blissfully ignorant of the secret the palace had housed for more than a decade. If that became known, Queen Esther might have a civil war on her hands. _If Lady Mary Spencer had been around…_Ah, but Lady Mary's dead and buried, killed by rebels in a mutiny some years back.

They had helped the Queen advert war with the Duke of Erin by brokering a suitable match with his younger brother for the young queen in the early turbulent years following her ascension to the throne. It helped that Esther and the Duke of Cornwall fell in love with each other. The kingdom had its share of bad matches before. The two princes have made suitable marriages with a Germanic countess and a Gallic baroness respectively. Both ladies were Terrans, naturally. It was a disaster Princess Laura… In the end, the fault lay with him. If only he had not been so blind to the first stirrings of trouble back then…

It was more than ten years, about thirteen years since that tragedy. First it was the dreadful incident in the Parisian catacombs that left half a dozen AX members dead or maimed, including Wordsworth and de Watteau. Ion had been severely poisoned when he rushed to aid his fallen comrades. While the wounded recovered in the medically advanced Albion hospitals, Havel fell out spectacularly with Cardinal Catherina and broke away from the main AX team, taking along a better part of the new recruits. Next, it was Esther's own daughter who fell to the Rosenkreuz. Sir Virgil's clerk, Dimitri, went to confront her attacker and paid for it with his life. Laura was left in a coma. The princess lingered until her baby was born.

Anastasia was the biggest surprise in this huge tangled mess. There was no mistaking whose child Anastasia was. The baby had the flame-coloured hair as her mother and the striking ice-blue eyes of Dimitri. Lady Vanessa confessed to getting a certain sugar-loving priest to arrange a secret wedding between the princess and the clerk, with the full intention of elopement if Albion could not accept the union between a Terran and Methuselah.

Despite all Esther's efforts to shower her with a grandmother's affection, the child had been solemn, reserved often wearing a forlorn look. It was as if she knew of the tragedy surrounding her birth. No one ever discussed it, and certainly not in front of Anastasia.

Anastasia feared the dark. The approach of sunset made her more guarded, clingier to her guardians. Ironically, the sunlit gardens were her element, a sad thing for a child born to a Methuselah parent and destined to one day to be a Methuselah. Virgil had explained it to Esther once. Methuselahs were less fertile than Terrans. Terran-Methuselah unions were often barren. In the rare instance, the offspring will inevitably inherit the bacilli from the Methuselah parent. Two months ago, Anastasia had started to display the classic symptoms of turning. They put her on blood capsules to deal with that particular need.

"Milord! Your Majesty!" Wendy ran in with Lady Vanessa close behind her. "Anastasia's gone. She's not in her room!"

"What do you mean?" Esther almost leapt out of her chair. Strains of childish laughter came from the palace garden. _Oh no! The sun was still out and…_ Wendy and the queen ran to the open French window overlooking the garden. It took the better part of the Walshes' self-control not to dash out into certain death. _It was impossible!_ Miraculously, Anastasia waved at her nurse and grandmother with the sunlight glinting off her flame-coloured hair. Dolls and the scattered remains of her tea party littered the lawn around her.

"I thought she has turned already." Wendy murmured in disbelief. She expected her charge to be reduced to a pile of ashes like natural Methuselah would in UV light. Only the Neverland artificial 'vampires' have that immunity. Her orphaned charge only giggled and tumbled scampered agilely up the oak tree.

"Yes… Sir Virgil had the tests run twice to be sure. The bacilli are active," Esther stared confused at the unharmed child leaping agilely from branch to branch as no Terran child could. An exasperated Wendy clambered after her. Finally, the nurse was forced to activate the fairy wings she rarely used now to retrieve the child from a high branch. Only recently had Anastasia gambolled like a young child should, as if she were trying to hold on to the last remnants of a cloistered childhood.

"Grandmother, will they come soon?" Anastasia perched on the window ledge where her nurse had deposited her. There was mud on her pinafore and leaves in her hair, but she was positively glowing. "Will I meet the nice priest who married Father and Mother? Wendy says that he's a nice person." Esther nodded and smiled.

The letter left to them had been explicit in its instructions. Soon, they would come…

* * *

_Rome. Cathedral of St Paul. _

Abel studied the congregation from his seat at the very corner of the hall. There has always been an Abel Nightroad on the Vatican records, if anyone cared to check. There was an empty grave in Albion bearing his name. It was a simple matter of duplicity Catherina reinstated him on the payroll after they had issued his death certificate. After that, Carmen, with her uncanny ability to hack into any electronic system, altered his age in the records to match his physical appearance very ten years or so. Still, he has to be wary not to raise the suspicions of those unaware of his true identity.

Petros and Paula were there, flanking the Pope as his personal guards. He noted that Petros had discarded his heavy armour in favour of lighter garments. Even at their age, they were still very imposing. They may have left the Inquisition army, but they still exuded the command of their heyday. The Cardinals who would love to crowd about the pope kept a decent distance. His Holiness looked well. Cardinal Benedictia de Bogart stood stern-faced with the ever-smiling Cardinal Niall. Sour-faced Avignon glowered at them with undisguised hatred. Some said Cardinal Avignon had designs on the papal throne.

"Avignon can dream all he wants. The College loathes him, and his dogs. His Holiness has his hopes pinned on someone else, anyone else. Cardinal Constantine, Simon Peter or even Benedictia… can you imagine the first female pope in all Christendom?" Eris murmured as she stroked the cat in her lap. The sermon was starting. Carmen's and Thomas' absence were unremarkable, since they weren't that particular about Mass to start with. Surprisingly, Brother Tres was not yet present. Eris tried to ignore a twinge of unease.

William sat slumped in his wheelchair under the watchful eyes of his student. This was not one of his more lucid hours. He barely acknowledged Abel or Eris. The poison in Paris had affected his once sharp mind. There were some rare days when the old Professor re-surfaced. "Peter? Where's Kate?" The old man looked around in confusion.

"She isn't here, sir," Peter reassured him. Sister Kate had faded out of the Iron Maiden's system after her physical body died some twenty years back.

"She dyed her hair black… I saw her, I forget when. It does not suit her."

"No, that's Carmen you saw yesterday."

"Who's Carmen?"

"Father Leon's daughter…"

"Leon's girl? He pointed her out to me when we passed the orphanage this morning. She's only a little child…"

"No, Father Leon was not with you this morning. Carmen's all grown up now…" Peter stopped as he watched his patient doze off. "He was better this morning. He beat me at chess," he gave Abel an apologetic smile. Abel could only smile back, his heart aching for the state his colleague was in. "Father, I went to Albion last month…"

"Did you visit Sir Virgil?" Abel asked. Peter had a terrible falling-out with his foster-family over his decision to join the Vatican AX many years ago, when he was still a college student. Sir Virgil had hopes that the young Terran Peter would join the diplomatic corps of Albion. They really should make up. To his disappointment, the younger priest shook his head.

"I went to see Father Hugue and Sister Anis. He's able to sit up by himself now. He never talks much, but his sister chatters more than a magpie. She suggests we try to stimulate Professor's mental functions, like how she practically bullies Hugue into doing simple tasks for himself. It stops his muscles and nerves from wasting. That's why I had a chess match with him. It seemed to work, a bit…"

If there was one silver lining to the Paris disaster, it reunited the de Watteau siblings after almost fifty years apart. Hugue was admitted to the St Bartholomew Hospital of Londinium where Sister Anis worked. She thought all her family had been killed that day so long ago. After escaping her kidnappers, she did not choose the route of vengeance but took vows to administer to the sick. It was a bittersweet reunion. Hugue's mental faculties were still very much in place, although the poison paralysed his body. Madame de Montespan of the Orden was a formidable opponent indeed. It was only with great difficulty that Ion managed to decapitate her.

"Any news from Valcav?" Abel asked Eris. The abbess shook her head sadly. "He hasn't been in touch with AX since Catherina's funeral. He knows it was not Catherina's fault that his nephew died. He blames himself for being too stubborn to return and apologize to her before her death. The worst part of it is that he is still beating himself up over it. Oh dear…" There was a small commotion as an Inquisition guard bustled up to Cardinal Avignon. The cardinal had a definitely sly look on his face as the guard whispered into his ear.

"Your Sanctity, my apologies but I must interrupt your sermon. The Inquisition has reported a disturbing development in the Holy city. I bring charges against Eris Wuizmeier for harbouring a fugitive who attacked an Inquisition patrol. Bring in the prisoners!" Avignon's booming voice all but drowned out the Pope's pleas for calm. A murmur ran through the hall. Abel groaned as he recognized the pathetic figure bound with heavy silver chains being dragged unceremoniously down the carpeted central aisle. Ion. Behind Ion, burly guards manhandled a gagged and bound Thomas.

"What have you done this time, Tom?" Eris was on her feet and down the aisle in minutes to confront the Cardinal.

"My men raided AX property in pursuit of a felon and were attacked by members of the AX corps… The offenders have been captured and will be dealt with…" Avignon continued.

"What have you done to Carmen and Brother Tres?" Now it was Peter's turn to sprint down the aisle. Abel almost followed suit when the wheelchair-bound William placed a restraining had on his wrist. "Don't let Eris have another thing to explain. Sit back and watch." The Professor's eyes were now alert.

Avignon's voice boomed throughout the cathedral. "In the same raid, this vampire was captured on AX premises…" Ion was roughly forced to his knees. "I propose we uphold the laws of the church and sentence…"

"You are out of line, Avignon!" Petros growled. His hand rested dangerously on his sword-hilt. He had given up his lance due to his age. "Mass is not yet over!"

"Please! Can we discuss this in a peaceful manner?" The Pope's soft voice strained to be heard over the heated argument on Church protocol between Avignon and Petros.

"Fascinating!" Loud, slow and deliberate applause broke out over clamour. "So this is how the Holy Vatican Church carries out a Mass. Personally I prefer the Byzantium Terran church's rites, more dignified, don't you say?" A tall blond lady strode confidently out of a shadowy corner of the hall. She had a streak of red hair over her brow. With her was a gaggle of nervous Byzantium clergy. A dead hush fell over the congregation.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I feel so sorry for Hugue, I had to let him be reunited with his sister. I am quite mean to the AX team, with Havel falling out, de Watteau and Wordsworth wounded. To be fair, the Orden also suffered losses. Madame de Montespan is based on a French royal mistress rumoured to be involved in witchcraft and devil-worship.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! I am letting the story sweep me along but I don't know how it will go. Did I miss out someone you would like to see more of? Wonder where the RCO are hiding out?

* * *

**Chapter 3**

To his alarm, Abel saw that Peter had his hand on his sword cane as he hurried down the aisle. As he passed her, the diminutive-looking Eris absently reached out and clutched his elbow momentarily. "Point to Eris," William grinned as Peter suddenly change track and strode out of the cathedral without missing a step, his blade still firmly in its sheath. The tall blond lady now held a spear in her hand, one Abel recognized. Astaroshe was emanating an aura of rage. In panic, he leapt to his feet and promptly tripped on his own cloak. With a crash, he found himself in a painful pile on the floor.

"Eris has everything under control." William reassured. Eris brushed past the spear-holding Methuselah in what happens to be a dash to her young charge. The Crusnik registered a deliberate movement so slight, no one else would have noted it. When Eris passed, she had deliberately touched the Methuselah's arm for a fraction of a second. The aura of rage dissipated noticeably.

"Astaroshe Asran, Duchess of Kiev, ambassador of the Empire to Rome. The purpose of this visit is to re-establish ties between the Vatican church and the Byzantinum Orthodoxy…." The Duchess of Kiev stopped in front of the bedraggled Ion. During her stalk down the aisle, the notion suddenly occurred to her that blowing out the cathedral's roof was not a good idea. "So here's where you got to." She took his chin between her fingers and lifted his face up.

"Lady Asta…" His words were muffled by the deep plush carpeting as the duchess pushed him face down into the floor with the butt of her spear. "My young page is such trouble. I sent him out to arrange lodgings for us, but you can't do anything right, right? Did you lose your diplomatic ID again?" Ion struggled and screamed his angry protests into the carpet. "I believe His Sanctity can discuss the finer points of theology with Patriarch Dominic of the Orthodoxy while I attend to some discipline matters. Are the lodgings arranged? No? I guess we have to make do with that high-priced guesthouse then."

"Well, he's under diplomatic protection, what are you waiting for, Avignon? Isn't one shameful display before our guests enough?" Cardinal Benedictia tapped her foot imperiously. "Sister Paula, can you please escort our guests to the library? The Pope will speak with the Byzantinum clergy there shortly." Cardinal Avignon reluctantly ordered Ion to be released. While the clergy were ushered to the library, Astaroshe grabbed Ion roughly by the arm and hauled him out of the hall and to safety. "Keep your mouth shut, Ion. You are more trouble than you are worth as a page." she hissed a warning.

"Now that is settled, can we please get back to the Mass?" Alessandro XVIII beseeched.

"There is still the matter of AX. I demand you disband them!" Cardinal Avignon yelled. "Eris' management methods are unorthodox. Carmen de Asturias, who was implicated in the Rosenkreuz plot to assassinate you in Barcelona, the studies into forbidden technologies by Peter Neverland Walsh, who also happens to be the foster son of a leading vampire family in Albion…" The Pope stepped back right into the hulking bulk of Cardinal Niall.

"Who are you to order His Sanctity about?" Cardinal Niall of Erin retorted with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"At least, I demand you mete out punishment to this priest-killer!" Avignon swept his arm at a glowering Thomas. "Erin, you presided over the investigation..."

"He has already been sentenced by the Pope himself," Eris spoke up as she un-gagged Thomas. The guards who were restraining the teenager had a blank look on their faces. No doubt Eris had touched them with her power. "A life sentence in service of the Vatican."

"Please, Avignon, don't dig that up again," The pope groaned. That was a scandal they took ages to bury and now… He signalled Petros to restore order… They better end this before anything else happened. At least the Count of Memphis was out of imminent danger.

"I really enjoyed killing that old lecher!" Un-gagged, Thomas' bell-clear voice echoed throughout the cathedral before Eris clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. The youngster slumped forward silent. "Relax, Abel. She's just put him to sleep for a while. We can't have him shouting all the vocabulary he picked up back on the streets of Dublin before the Cardinals," The Professor commented.

"The brat is unrepentant! I demand the Inquisition be allowed to mete out fitting punishment," the red-faced Avignon yelled. "Cardinal Niall obviously has made a mistake in the initial investigations."

"My sole regret in that inquest was I failed to have that child-molesting pervert defrocked and excommunicated. In fact, I think O'Cleary deserves some credit for shoving him out of a belfry," the Irish cardinal shouted. "Avignon! You were the one who recommended him to the Church of Erin. Wasn't he with your Cathedral of Notre Dame? You dumped a troublemaking pervert of a priest on my church of Erin to save your sorry hide!" Niall's hands tightened on his crook. Abel estimated that the crook weighed a good ten kilograms and in the hands of a former Celtic commando like Niall, would make a effective cudgel taken to Avignon's skull.

"Calm yourself, Erin. I believe it is obvious to all present what a_ sharing_ person Avignon is," Benedictia added meaningfully as she restrained her colleague. "Eris, you better see to the boy. He appears unwell."

"All of you, OUT, NOW!" Petros boomed. The Pope had gone awfully pale and was leaning heavily on the arm of the ex-captain of the Inquisition. Cardinal Avignon did not need prompting as he left with his guards. Freed of his bonds, a somewhat dazed Thomas was bundled out of the hall by Eris.

When most of the assorted clergy and guards have exited the hall, Abel hurried forward. Cardinals Benedictia and Niall were heading in the direction of the library to meet the Byzantinum representatives. "Your Sanctity?" Poor Alessandro looked positively ill. "We did not go into the details of the child abuse involved in that scandal," Petros explained.

"I messed up, didn't I? I let down my brother and sister… and the Vatican's reputation…" Alessandro whined. For a moment, he appeared terribly frail and very scared, like the teenager who was caught between his feuding kinsfolk.

"I apologize on behalf of AX for our part in the disturbance and the Cardinal Avignon has to answer for the rest of it. You are going to meet with the patriarchs in the library and reopen communications with the Byzantinum church. Everything will be alright, you got Niall and Benedictia to back you up and unlike Francesco and Catherina, they will not be shouting at each other," Abel gave the Pope a reassuring smile.

"You are right. I must meet with the Patriarch. The good ties between the Vatican and the Byzantinum church must be re-established… after that disaster with Brother Francesco." Alessandro straightened his mitre and took up his staff.

"Great job, Nightroad," Petros clapped him on the shoulder.

"Peter? Kate? Where's everyone?" A plaintive voice cried out. Wordsworth's mind had slipped back into confusion. "You better see him back, Nightroad. See you about sometime," Petros waved to the white-haired priest before exiting the cathedral with his Sanctity. Abel Nightroad made his way back to where he had left his colleague. Someone was there with the professor.

"Vaclav?"

"Good evening, Father Abel." Vaclav Havel now wore plainclothes instead of a cassock. He was still in good shape for his age, even though there were more lines of weariness on his face. "We can talk on the way back to the nursing home."

"Vaclav, are you intending to return to AX?" _A momentary flash of hope. With Havel's experience and leadership skills…_

"No. I am too busy to be caught up with Vatican politics. I have been on their trail…"

"The Orden?"

"Something does not add up, Abel. And it is here… I don't know what."

* * *

In a small church on the outskirts of Rome, a young nun fidgeted as she made her confession. It struck her that the church was colder and dimmer than usual. "Father, bless me for I have sinned…" The shadows were closing in on her. He heart thumped with both fear and excitement. True, Brother Ivan was young and very handsome, but he was still a priest and she shouldn't be thinking of such things at this time. "I have sinful thoughts…" 

"What kind of sinful thoughts? The Original Sin perhaps?" Ivan's voice purred from the other side of the screen. The nun's heart beat faster. A rustle of robes followed by the creak of the confessional door made the nun look up. She saw Brother Ivan. His eyes were an icy blue… She shrank away as the vampire smiled.

It was over quickly with a muffled shriek and the tangy scent of fresh blood. Ivan licked his lips and savoured the taste of the girl's blood. The corpse lay sprawled in the tiny confessional. With a wave of his arm, the waiting shadows swept over the remains, devouring them. When they parted, not a drop of blood, scrap of cloth or rosary bead was seen.

"Father?" An altar boy peered into the deserted church of St Helen's. "You have visitors; two gentlemen and a girl…" The boy gasped and sank to the floor, choking on his own blood as one of the visitors slid a hand nonchalantly through his chest.

"Grandfather Fritz, what brings you here?" Ivan warmly shook the bloodstained hand of the grey-bearded man at the threshold of the church. "Is Cain was feeling a tad indisposed? _Someone's _work fell apart,_ again_?" Isaak acknowledged the barb in Ivan's words with a glare.

"We're here on a minor business not worthy of Master Cain's time," Fritzroy von Mansfield's whiskers twitched as he cleaned his hand on the altar cloth. "You should be more careful. Who knows what this brat may have seen with you inviting the little sisters in all hours of the night. Care to join us?"

Ivan guffawed. "I am sorry but I must pass up on your invitation. I have a body to dispose of… would you like to help? Oh, I saw your former mistress this morning, Isaak. De Asturias, was it? She never looked better since you brought down a grand cathedral's roof on her and her father." A mocking smile danced on the false priest's lips.

Isaak glowered. "I have to keep an eye on Lorelei, otherwise I wouldn't step into this accursed city..." Lorelei was kneeling by the dying altar boy, humming a little song and deliberately tracing patterns with his blood. .

"Right. If anything untoward happens to our sweet angel of death, Flameberg will stick her sword in your guts and twist it," von Mansfield chuckled.

"And if she finds out what really happened to the last Flameberg and her old man, she will rip out your heart and roast it in front of you. Old Dietrich had the right idea dying when he did. Can you imagine what she would do to him?" Ivan sat irreverently on the altar.

"Found the Star your dear, traitorous twin hid away?" Isaak mocked. "Immunity to UV-rays and silver, those traits are most enviable. But without the Star, you cannot operate the Ark. The legacy of the Flamevogels, if it does exist."


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! I am letting the story sweep me along but I don't know how it will go. Did I miss out someone you would like to see more of? How are my OCs? Are they weird? Are the grownup versions of Eris and Peter believable?

* * *

**Chapter 4**

For the umpteenth time, Cain considered killing or at least maiming certain members of the Rosenkreuz. He had awoken to Scheherazade cursing the Magician and von Mansfield for taking her precious charge out without her permission, again. This time, she was threatening them with dismemberment among other things. Assorted furniture was being hacked up and kicked about. A nice shockwave her direction should shut her up permanently.

It was strangely satisfying killing that worthless Terran when he forced Abel to engage him in combat. He was careless in Albion and Abel still lived. After their battleship blew up, Isaak had to be fished out of the Thames by the Flamevogel twins, _with a boat hook_. The twins never forgot that, and neither did Isaak. The Magician was more cautious in their dealings now. Von Mansfield could not be trusted. The true founder of the Rosenkreuz, the aged Methuselah was still a force to be reckoned with. Still waters run deep. After that Puppeteer's demise, he had taken control of his vampire corpse army.

The twins had grown up and promptly disappeared into the fabric of society as spies and instigators. In their wake they left rebellion and unrest. He did not expect the Lamplighter to rebel… _Didn't they have his head stuck on the Traitor's Gate?_ The Shadowmaster has been spying on the AX and spreading unrest in the Vatican itself for the past decade or so… The fool Vaclav Havel even tried to recruit the false priest into AX once. The Shadowmaster would have leapt at the chance if it wasn't for a certain abbess. Scheherazade was to watch dear Sister Seth, except the foolish female got herself exiled. At least she makes a good nursemaid to Lorelei. Cain smiled as he contemplated the flames in the fireplace. He still needed them to flush out his prey.

* * *

Eris' quick-thinking had saved him. Peter replayed that few seconds in the cathedral when he actually had murder on his mind. When Eris grabbed his elbow, the murderous rage ebbed and reason prevailed. In many ways, he was still a rash boy at heart. The bastards had taken out most of the windows facing the square on the west wing. A Goliath tank shell had knocked a huge hole in his workshop. Ion, Tres and Thomas would have been overwhelmed by the blast. Brother Tres had been buried by the debris from the collapsed ceiling. Now the android was lying against the wall as his self-repair system worked. It was a miracle Ion and Thomas weren't killed outright.

"I am useless," Carmen pounded her hands helplessly against the wall. Being a hologram, she did not feel any physical pain, but Peter understood the pain she felt was far deeper. "I can't even free Brother Tres… I can't stop them from chaining Ion or Thomas… I should have gone for help, right? I can't…" Holographic tears ran down her cheeks.

"Carmen, they used an electromagnetic jammer charge," Peter almost reached out to hold her hand. A useless gesture, he knew. Carmen was insubstantial. "You did your best. You told me where to dig Brother Tres out. At least you are safe…" Peter had to make a detour to the airfield to stabilise the Iron Maiden II system thanks to that jammer. He thanked heaven that system was retrievable and made a mental note to install a safety programme against the Inquisition's latest tactic. "I shouldn't have gone rile them…" Carmen hit the wall again.

"Carmen, this would have happened eventually. If it isn't Thomas' fiery temper, it will be Mother Eris' trespassing cat… They have been finding a reason to disband us since Lady Catherina's death. So quit blaming yourself."

"Peter, you are always so sweet. If only we had met sooner…" Regret filled her voice. Regret for her wasted rebellious youth. Regret over her father's death. "Aw, Carmen…Don't start on that…" Peter blushed awkwardly. He always adored Carmen since the first time he saw her from a distance in a certain Spanish casino. She was brimming with life and vitality. At that point, Peter the college student had realised his affection for Wendy was that of a brother for an older sister. Being a typical rebellious runaway, Carmen had taken up with some unsavoury characters.

Poor Father Leon kept having years added on to his sentence for jailbreak every time he rescued his daughter out of her scraps. The last one ended with his death. Carmen was being used by the Rosenkreuz for her uncanny ability to hack into almost any computer system in the world. In the end, she was another victim. The day Father Leon died, Peter's resolve to join AX was set. To save Carmen, he input her consciousness into the Iron Maiden system and got an earful from the Professor and Sister Kate, who did not expect to be stuck with a distraught young lady on her hands. Kate managed to talk sense into Carmen and convince her to join AX. _How many years ago was it? Forty?_ Magdalene was more emotional than the Iron Maiden Kate, but she was now a reliable part of the team.

"Status report… 60 percent recovery…" A monotonous voice reported as Tres' eyes flickered to life. "Report 80 percent damage to left hand…" The Apprentice fumbled among the ruins of his cabinet to find the necessary tools.

"Peter, you went to Londinium last month. How am I? I want to know." Peter closed his eyes and recalled his visit to the Ghetto hospital there. The image of Carmen, thin, wasted with tubes pumping life-sustaining fluids and air into her body came to his mind. Her vital signs were fading with each passing day. "Will I go like Sister Kate did?"

"Not so soon," Peter lied. "You are in pretty good shape for someone who has been in a coma for so long. You'll probably outlast little old me. You know how advanced they are in the Ghetto."

"Affirmative," Tres winked as the Apprentice re-attached severed wires in the damaged hand. "Ghetto hospitals are 50 percent more advanced in medicine."

* * *

"Thank you, Duchess…" Ion rubbed at a bruise on his chin as they walked through a guesthouse. His body ached from the abuse it had been subject to. He hated to admit it, but he owed Astaroshe one.

"You need some treatment for that gash. You probably got some silver in your system from those chains… Open up or I'll bust in your door!" No reply came from behind the door they stopped in front of. The duchess' foot contacted with the heavy oak door with a resounding crash. The door banged open. The room was deserted. The duchess stalked over to the bedside table and grabbed a bottle. "Take one of these pills, latest medical advancement from our labs. It will flush the silver out of your system."

She grabbed the pitcher of water and poured him a glass. She took a bottle of blood capsules and dropped a capsule into the water before offering it to him. Ion swirled the water to dissolve the capsule before gulping down the anti-silver pill with the blood.

"Every visit to this holy city is jinxed for me. First, you deserted your mission and left me to negotiate with Lady Catherina. This time my fellow envoy saw fit to take an impromptu swim in the silver-laced fountain of St Peter's square. Terrans have a strange habit of filling their fountains with silver coins…" Astaroshe poured herself a glass of red wine.

"How is he?" Ion winced at the mention of the fountain. He once had the misfortune of falling in thanks to his klutzy silver-haired partner. It was not life-threatening but immensely unpleasant. "The Terror of Minsk? Alive and hopefully not taking another silver bath," Astaroshe's tone was indifferent. _Minsk? _Ion thought the name sounded familiar. He prayed the Inquisition patrols will not chance on the missing envoy. He need not worry.

The missing envoy held on for support to the spire of the chapel facing the guesthouse. From this vantage point, the youthful-looking Methuselah could see the happenings in the room. Slim fingers brushed aside wind-swept raven hair as grey eyes studied the Count of Memphis. He had grown slightly taller and appeared more mature. Boots scraped the tiles as the envoy scampered agilely over the rooftops, leaping over the heads of the oblivious patrols below.

"Count of Memphis, I have bad news," Astaroshe sat down in an armchair facing him. She better get it over with. Ion shifted uneasily in his armchair. The letter from Esther was cryptic and very mysterious. He would have informed Nightroad if he hadn't got caught by the Inquisition raid. Now what could Lady Astaroshe mean? His heart sank.

"Is it Grandmother?" Astaroshe nodded. Ion lowered his head.

"She was involved in an _incident_ few years back. We have been trying to reach you since. We cannot release the details…" The Duchess of Moldova had been stabbed in the back while protecting the Empress. "Her spinal cord was severed. She is alive and recovering, but the doctors say she will be unlikely to regain use of her legs…"

"Who did it?" Ion clenched his fists. Anger turned his eyes a bright crimson. _No one hurts his grandmother and gets away with it… _

"Countess of Samaria, Lady Scheherazade," Astaroshe looked away. Ion gasped.

"_That Scheherazade_? Suleyman's simpleton daughter, the one he had to offer a promotion in the Secret Service to get Radu to agree to marry?" He recalled his few glimpses of the countess at official functions. A slip of a girl following behind her father like some well-trained dog, she was meekness personified with those downcast eyes. Ion dodged as Astaroshe flung her wine glass at him.

"Don't speak of her that way. She was never simple-minded and Barvon did her a great disservice by gossiping about her. I am glad the cad wound up demoted to your babysitter…" Fury flashed in her golden eyes.

"Radu wasn't a cad!" Ion growled. Radu was his friend, even if he tried to kill him.

"Do you know she went into mourning for him and has been mourning for the last fifty years? And maybe for her father as well." Astaroshe replied tartly. "Scher is a deep one… She's vanished from her cell after she was detained…" If only she had not grown apart from her childhood companion…

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Please review or flame me.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! I am letting the story sweep me along but I don't know how it will go. Did I miss out someone you would like to see more of? This is working from the anime's end. At least in the Empire, there shouldn't be too many new faces.

I have changed the title from Star of Hope to Star of Hope: A New Star as this may be a multi-part story (think epic).

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Asta! Miss Asta! Thank you for helping Ion out back there!" Abel Nightroad trotted up the guesthouse porch stairs just as Astaroshe escorted a subdued Ion out. From the shadows, Vaclav smiled and left. Father Nightroad hasn't changed in some aspects. They had spoken after dropping Father William off at the nursing home. Abel was still trying to talk him into returning. If only the silver-haired priest knew what has happened since…

Ion winced as Abel's boot caught on a step and the priest pitched forward, _face-first onto the duchess' very ample bosom_. Astaroshe went red, then white with rage.

"Sorry! So sorry!" Abel hurriedly apologized. Ion groaned as his partner compounded his mistake by vigorously brushing the front of the duchess' tunic with his hands. "Abel, you want to die tonight?" The duchess hissed a warning.

"Die, Terran!" A flash of movement. Abel flew clear into the air and landed head-first in a rose bush. His attacker glared at the semi-conscious priest and the stunned Ion. "That will teach you to harass an Imperial envoy of the New Breed…" The newcomer wore the garments of an Imperial page. Ion concluded from his bearing that the youth was Astaroshe's fellow envoy.

"I apologize for his actions… I am Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis, of the House of Moldova…" Ion made the customary introductions.

"I don't give my name so freely, unlike you!" The page spun on his heel with a snort of disdain, leapt onto the roof and disappeared into the night. "Wah, Ion… Ah haf a nosebleed…" Abel whined as he disentangled himself from the thorns. "Some things never change," the Duchess shook her head with a resigned smile on her lips and flew after the page.

"Quit acting like a baby! Esther sent us a letter, it is important…" Ion decided that not tell Abel about his Grandmother yet. Abel replaced his glasses on his nose and read the somewhat grimy letter. The light from the streetlamps was weak, but sufficient for a Crusnik. A serious expression came to his face. "Ion, we must leave immediately. Let's go back to AX and pack what we need."

* * *

"_You are not alone, Vaclav. The door is always open to you."_

Vaclav sighed as he recalled Abel's words. The past years were a nightmare. The men who have left AX with him were steadily killed as they followed the trail of the Orden, steadfast soldiers, trained fighters, now they were all dead. Some of them, like him, had once been with the Inquisition army. The last one, young Francis had met his end mysteriously in Austria. He was found dying in a back alley, shot in the head with his own gun. They were investigating the massacre in the theatre then. Francis was onto something. The young man's notes brought him back to Rome.

_Beware the Angel and the Priest._ What did Francis mean by his last words?

Using his powers of invisibility, he had slipped into the Mass and saw Eris, Abel and the others attending it. He had heard Eris' words to Abel. She was right, he was a proud fool. If only he had returned before Catherina died. So what if she had ordered him thrown out of her house in a fit of temper and acting on her orders literally, Tres had thrown him out the front door by his collar? He suspected Eris knew he was present and probably meant to approach him later if Avignon had not disrupted the Mass. She was right about him beating himself up, and not just over Catherina.

_Ivan Warsowski of St Helen's._ Vaclav recognised the priest walking up to him with a lantern. The years had left little mark on the youthful-looking priest. "Nice night for a walk by moonlight, isn't it?" Ivan was always a likeable man. He ministered to the Inquisition army barracks as chaplain in his younger days and did a stint as a travelling priest before taking charge of St Helen's and the many convents and orphanages in the vicinity.

"There has been another disappearance, Father Havel. I'd advise you to keep indoors." Ivan was a close friend of Francis and his late nephew Stefan. Vaclav found he liked the younger priest for his honesty and good humour. In his last letter, Ivan had mentioned a series of mysterious disappearances in his neighbourhood.

"Another one? And please drop the Father part. I am no longer a priest," Vaclav replied. He felt his age. _Was Ivan looking for the missing alone?_

"Yes, sir. This time it is a young sister from St Mary's and a boy from the orphanage. One of my altar boys, I am afraid… I would it were something like a lovers' runaway. Be careful, Father. There are shadows where there is light. Oh, I will light a candle for Stefan and poor Francis… Was it suicide? They say he shot himself…" The priest shrugged.

Vaclav started. He had not told anyone about Francis' death, much less the manner of it. He leapt to his feet. The scattered notes Francis made were falling into place. "How did…"

"Poor Francis. His mother killed herself with a pistol when he was a child. Do you suppose suicide is inherited, like pride? How about your nephew? Stefan was trying to prove his worth back in Paris. Poor Stefan, forever in his uncle's shadow… You should have seen his face when I told him about the catacombs' secret entrance…" Ivan's eyes were glowing with a malicious delight. "The irony is that even you have forgotten the maxim of the Inquisition. Never trust a vampire."

Now Vaclav could see Ivan's fangs glinting in the lantern light. _Impossible! _Vaclav reacted, drawing his pistol. He was too slow.

The lantern crashed onto the cobbles and went out. Vaclav felt the bones of his wrist snap as Ivan nonchalantly crushed it. The gun slid out of his now useless hand. "My true name is Ivan Iscariot Flamevogel, Duke of Volga. Contrary to belief, not all vampires shun sunlight and silver. Now, Father, let the true hunt begin." Ivan released his grip. Taking this chance, Vaclav summoned his strength, shook himself free and made himself invisible. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his wrist, he ran.

Ivan did not pursue him. With a smirk, the false priest signalled to the watchers in the alleyway. Lorelei smiled and sprinted off after her prey.

"Children," Von Mansfield chuckled and took a drag on his pipe. "She's almost as charming as your von Lohengrin, eh?" Isaak did not even bother replying. Fritz always enjoyed teasing him about that Terran boy. "Too bad she has no affinity with computer systems or technology, though. The fraulein can make anyone go to their deaths willingly. Not joining the hunt, priest?"

Ivan shook his head. "I have other things to attend to," he whispered more to himself than to anyone else. The crescent moon slipped out from behind a cloud. A hunter's moon. Smiling to himself, Ivan left.

* * *

Abel and Ion returned to AX to find Eris supervising makeshift repairs. Eris' black cat had somehow managed to return to her after the commotion and now lay curled round her shoulders. Peter and Carmen worked at checking the building's power, water and other essential systems for any damage. Thomas was boarding up the broken windows with Tres' help. Thomas had a bandage around his head and one arm in a sling. "Mother Eris, Ion and I need to leave for Albion. Could we…" Abel started on his plea for travel funds. Eris only dumped a hammer and a plank into his arms. 

"You help too." Eris passed Ion a broom. "Try to move the debris out of the workshop. I will try to get some workmen to do the rebuilding. Carmen, can you please check the flight schedules for the next night flight to Albion?" Carmen nodded and flickered out. A few minutes later, she flickered back.

"The flights tonight are full. The next available one is at ten in the morning. Shall I put this on the AX budget?"

"Only for a budget flight. We will need to set aside some budget for the repairs if the inquest doesn't require Avignon to compensate us for damages. Maybe we should cut Father Nightroad's pay instead," Eris gave a wicked grin as the silver-haired priest wilted to the ground with a howl of despair. "Or if they get all the broken windows boarded before morning, we'll let it pass."

She touched Ion lightly on the shoulder. "Count, is it alright for you not to go to your Grandmother?" she whispered.

"Eris, you read me again," Ion replied. "I will go to her, but not now."

* * *

Anastasia Blanchett Avery had good reason to fear the dark. Outside her bedroom window, the shadows writhed and twisted in a macabre dance. Somehow, she understood that the shadows that followed her from her infancy were waiting for her to confront them. Twelve going on thirteen, she had come of age in a way. Lady Vanessa and Wendy had explained the changes in her body the best they could. But she knew there was something else about her. Deliberately, she switched off her nightlight. The shadows skittered into her room, crowding around her bed. 

They held back as if fearful. Emboldened, she reached out and touched one tendril. It shrank back then lurched forward, clutching her arm. She screamed.

"Ana!" Clad only in her nightgown, Esther grabbed her loaded pistol and ran to her grandchild's aid. The bedroom was engulfed by darkness. Terror gripped her heart. More screams. Esther's hand found the light switch. Light bathed the room. A mass of shadows grabbed at the child with black tendrils. Lifting her gun, Esther fired a silver bullet at the threatening mass. The shadows fled, leaving puddles of black blood. A trembling Anastasia dashed into Esther's arms. Her nightgown was torn and her limbs bore scratches from her encounter. Wendy came running.

"God help us all. What was that?" Esther gasped. The last time she had seen something similar was at the scene of Laura's attack. Dimitri Avery had confronted the assassin by summoning a huge wolf-like creature from the shadows. She had heard that the Magician, a high-ranking member of the Rosenkreuz, had summoned monsters from the shadows against various AX members on occasion. However, the one initiating such an attack must be in close proximity.

"There has been no breach in the perimeter, Terran or Methuselah," Wendy reported. Esther spent the rest of the night with her grandchild.

In distant Rome, a vampire gasped, grabbed at the spreading blood on his cassock and coughed blood onto the polished floor of the church of St Helen's.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Vaclav's in deep trouble. I borrowed some bits from the novel, like Vaclav being with the Inquisition once. I have finally tied the happenings in Rome with Esther's grandchild.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! Would you believe so many things are happening on this one night? Maybe I should throw Dietrich in somehow, but he is dead, isn't he? I don't think his RCO buddies would even bother with a funeral. At least Isaak didn't. Some naughtiness in this chapter

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"Did the kitten scratch you?" Isaak smirked as he strolled into the church. His comrade lay sprawled on a pew, clutching his wounded chest. "She does not have the Star with her. That old cat shot me. Touch me and die- Ah!" The younger vampire arched in pain. Isaak nonchalantly stabbed his gloved fingers into the bullet wound, ripping the flesh and probing. "That bullet has to come out, silver or not," The Magician commented blandly.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?" Ivan hissed as his claws dug into the pew beneath him. Blood spurted onto the wood floor as he coughed. "About as much as you and your twin enjoyed trying to rip out my heart with a boat hook back at the Thames," the Magician allowed his fingers to wander suggestively near Ivan's heart.

"I really enjoyed that, about as much as I will enjoy shooting you in certain places with a silver bullet - Ah!" A harsh scream burst from the vampire's lips as the Magician excised the bullet, roughly extracting it from the flesh.

"Really, we should do this more often, reminds me of you and your brother's antics…" Isaak pulled off his bloodied gloves and pulled a glass of red wine and a blood capsule from the alternate dimension he created. The other vampire pulled himself up, his wound already healing. "I prefer my blood fresh," Ivan scowled but accepted the blood-laced wine. "My departed brother was a fool. His mission was to discredit the Albion queen and her council, not fall for her daughter. And lose the Star while at it. One day, I'll get my hands on his little bastard…"

Isaak sat down and patted Ivan's knee. "Well, the little traitor was far more successful getting rid of the Orden's enemies than you, without even soiling his hands. Even the late Madame de Montespan, Mistress of Poisons, caused more damage to AX than you have. In fact, even Dietrich was far more successful…I don't know why we keep you about."

Maybe because you need someone to annoy you after that your little slut ruffled Lord Cain the wrong way. Three strikes in a row, to the Vatican. No wonder his patience ran out. Tell me, do you miss having that brat squirming in your bed?" Ivan smirked.

Isaak narrowed his eyes but kept his hand on Ivan's knee. "Let's see how our little fraulein's hunt ends."

* * *

Vaclav Havel paused to catch his breath. He had walked these streets numerous times. Since the day he had joined the Inquisition, and later AX… every stone held memories for him. He had spoken with comrades, strolled with them on those streets. He was now fleeing for his life. 

Francis might have mentioned the places they were going to in his letters. Vaclav trusted his men enough not to enforce censorship. He had a bad experience as a raw recruit in the Inquisition with censors. His letter to his mother read "Dear Mother," and ended immediately with "Love, Vaclav" after the censors cut out his enthusiastic gushing about the sights of the Holy City. If Ivan was Rosenkreuz… their movements were monitored from the very start.

AX was a sorry shade of her former self. Eris didn't have as much clout as Lady Catherina. Hugue and William were still sidelined. Peter was a sharp one, but nowhere near to the professor in his heyday. Carmen was once involved with the Rosenkreuz some years back, a youthful folly that had caused her much pain. Abel and Ion didn't even exist on the official record. The latest addition, Thomas O'Cleary, lacked discipline given what he had witnessed at Mass. AX was finished.

_Cardinal's Walk._ He recognized the distinctive bridge that bordered St Peter's Square. He was almost there. If he took the bridge overlooking the square, he should make it to AX in no time.

"_All things will perish from under the sky…" _A girl's clear and pure voice broke the still night air. Havel paused. _Why would a child be singing at this late hour_?

"_Music alone shall live…"_ Undaunted, the singer continued her song. It was a familiar folksong from his homeland. The pain in his wrist was making him light-headed. He ran up the bridge. It was getting difficult to hide himself with his invisibility. He chose to abandon all subterfuge. The bridge had fallen into disrepair. The sides were crumbling. In places, the parapet wall had given way completely. The singer's voice only grew clearer.

"_Music alone shall live…"_ A strange peace washed over him. He was a new Inquisition recruit, walking along the bridge. A young girl was standing at the parapet, gazing out over the square. Golden curls formed a halo about her tear-streaked face. Catherina. He had given her a flower because she looked so sad. She had just lost her loved ones to vampires in a massacre. He held the flower in his hand. Was it a white rose?

"_Music alone shall live…"_ Smiling, she took the rose from him. Smiling, she delicately but firmly pushed him away. Vaclav felt his boot scrape the edge of the sheer drop to the square below. In panic, he tried to regain his balance, in vain. As he fell, he recalled that it was not a rose but a handkerchief he had offered her on the long ago day. That was the last thought he had before his life spilled out on the stones below.

"_And never die…"_ The blond siren's angelic voice rang out the last line of the song. Dropping a curtsy to the lifeless body below, Lorelei giggled and skipped merrily away.

* * *

Petros and Paula never remembered what brought them out to the Square so early in the morning. They simply needed to talk, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the Papal guards and the many spies they were certain Avignon had planted in the ranks. "Christ have mercy…" despite himself, the former Inquisition captain swore under his breath when he saw the corpse. The features were familiar to him. They had crossed paths on many occasions in the past. "Sister, go inform the Papal guards and Eris."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

The song Lorelei sings in this chapter is one from I believe, Bohemia or Austria. I can't really recall. But it is a simple but very sweet children's song. Trust me to take an innocent little song and turn it into a dangerous weapon.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! I am letting the story sweep me along but I don't know how it will go.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Eris," Abel broke off in mid-sentence. Eris dabbed at her tears with her handkerchief. The early morning sun bathed the square. The Papal guards were crawling over the square, in particular, the Cardinal's Walk just above the body. "Cold. So cold. Despair, betrayal… darkness and hatred so twisted it eats the soul…" Eris closed her eyes as the residual tangle of emotions from both murdered and murderer flooded her senses. She leaned heavily on his arm for support.

"I shouldn't have left him." After a tiring night of backbreaking work, both he and Ion had retired for a few hours rest before boarding the flight to Albion. Instead, he had been awoken by Sister Paula ringing the doorbell (that miraculously survived the Inquisition raid of the night before). Leaving his Methuselah partner to his sleep, he had accompanied the AX head to the scene.

"Don't you start, Father Abel." Eris suddenly retched and fell to her knees, overwhelmed by the ferocity of emotions. "Eris!" He helped her to the fountain and sat her down on the edge. Petros and Paula have just finished giving their statement to a sour-looking Papal guard as a matter of formality. Paula came over to them. She had with her a thermos of tea. "Here, a cup of warm tea should help." She poured out a cup and offered it to Eris.

"Based on the evidence so far, it is an accident. He took a walk, slipped and fell from the bridge," Paula pushed her fringe aside. "They found on his person a key to a room at the Lamb Inn. Once the inquest is over, you may collect his belongings from the Papal Guardhouse. He has no surviving family…"

"About the inquest into the attack on the Inquisition patrol last night and the raid… it will be held this afternoon in the Basilica. Mother Eris, both you and your subordinates will need to attend," Paula continued.

"Was it an accident?" Abel's words stuck in his throat. Eris shook her head. "Rosenkreuz…" Abel whispered. Eris nodded slightly. The guards have brought a stretcher to remove the corpse. Brother Petros was now supervising a team of young guardsmen in removing the pool of congealed blood. Eris would see to the funeral arrangements.

* * *

"Sorry for being late!" At five minutes to ten, Abel ran to the airfield where Ion was already waiting in the AX's automobile. Peter had parked the vehicle in the shade of the airship and Ion was heavily covered against the sun's rays. The air steward was announcing the last call to board.

"Hurry up, the flight's almost leaving," Ion dragged the bag that held their meagre belongings out of the car and up into the airship. Abel sprinted after his partner. Peter waved a goodbye to them as they embarked. Only when they were safely inside did Ion discard his scarf, sunglasses and hat. "Estimated time of arrival in Albion is eight tonight. There will be a stopover in Paris. I was stifling out there."

"Father?" Abel seemed distracted. "Something did happen, didn't it?" Ion asked gently.

"Vaclav was found dead in St Peter's Square." Abel buried his face in his hands. Eris' observations came back to him. _There was no doubt at all Havel had been murdered. But how? Was he pushed off the bridge?_ _Did the Rosenkreuz infiltrate the city of Rome?_ Was someone in cahoots with them like Cardinal Alfonso was? Why Havel? Vaclav was careful. His movements eluded even AX. He rarely kept in touch after he left. Slowly, the priest drifted into sleep.

"Sleep well, partner." Ion covered the sleeping priest with a blanket before curling up in his own seat. Sleep eluded the Count as his mind went over the events that took place in Albion more than ten years ago. Princess Laura Blanchett and clerk Dimitri Avery. Laura was so like Esther in her younger days. Dimitri was a sombre-looking youth with startling ice-blue eyes. They were secretly in love. He could tell from the shy glances they shared when they thought no one was watching. He watched them dance at a ball as a guest of the Queen while recuperating from injuries suffered in Paris.

Then disaster swooped down on the unsuspecting pair. He never really knew what happened. Laura had left the ballroom for some air. They heard her scream. Dimitri literally flew across to the balcony. As he ran, he summoned a wolf-like beast from the shadows. Chaos broke out in the ballroom as panicked guests fled and guards rushed to the rescue. It was too late. The princess was found stabbed in the chest by a poisoned dagger while Dimitri lay exhausted beside her. No one had caught a glimpse of the attacker. Only his voice was heard, mocking the Queen.

"_A gift for her Highness' eighteenth birthday from the Orden." _That voice was chillingly charged with malice. The grounds were searched but no intruder was found. Laura remained in a coma while Esther stayed by her bedside. Dimitri could only watch helplessly through the glass window of the ward. Ion's heart went out to the poor clerk. He was recalled to Rome for the inquiry into the Paris fiasco. The next piece of news he received was from a news article. The disembodied head of Dimitri Avery, clerk to Lord Virgil Walsh, was found stuck on a pike above the Traitors' Gate. Laura died without waking from her coma, shattering her mother's heart and health, so the papers claimed.

_Damn you, Rosenkreuz. Damn you all._ It was so needless and cruel. The princess was just a young lady coming of age. Her secret love was a lowly clerk. There was no way they could have posed a threat to the Orden. Something else bothered the Count. _Dimitri's attack._ It was a high-level ability rarely seen in the Empire and almost unheard of Outside. _Was it some latent ability forced out by the clerk's intense desire to protect his beloved?

* * *

_

"Scherzie, I am home," The little angel-faced vampire squirmed into her guardian's bed. "I went to visit Brother Ivan and we had a little drink. Rome is so pretty by moonlight…"

"At least they remembered to feed you…" A bleary-eyed Scheherazade yawned and brushed aside her raven tresses. The Countess was dark-complexioned. She always wore black as a sign of mourning. In a playful mood, the child squirmed into the woman's lap.

"Why do you always wear black? I want to see Scherzie wear some other colour. If Uncle Isaak gets a uniform for us, I want mine white with lace and ribbons and Scherzie can have a sky-blue one." Coming in through the door, Isaak shuddered involuntarily at the Siren's ideas for their uniforms. "They will be the same as von Mansfield's, Ivan's and mine. No ribbons. No lace." The Magician stressed. "I want to wear a veil with mine. I am still in mourning," the Countess ventured demurely.

_You have been in mourning for half a century, move on! The_ Magician felt like shouting at the female but thought the better of it. Especially since the Sword of Eden was lying in plain view on her bedside table, next to the sepia miniatures of her late father and fiancé.

"How did the furniture in my room get demolished?" Isaak returned his attention to the original reason for his calling on the Countess of Samaria. "Simple. You did not ask permission to take Lorelei out," the Countess stood up to her full height and thrust out her chin defiantly.

"Is everyone arguing so early in the morning?" Cain's voice called out from the stairway outside. Giggling, Lorelei skipped off to him. Isaak only rolled his eyes at the enthusiastic greetings she showered on their Contra Mundi. "You spoil that child," Isaak muttered to the Countess as he lit a cigarette.

"It is a sad thing Lorelei was too young when the Terrans killed her family to have any clear memories of them. Von Mansfield tells me she had three older brothers and a sister, all killed by exposure to sunlight. She watched them die. Are you going to fault me for creating memories for Lorelei? We are lucky to have little mementos and memories to hold on to, Isaak." The Countess let a slender finger trace the frame of her fiancé's portrait. "Who's that little boy whose photo sits at your bedside, a dear comrade, a beloved one? Did you shed tears at his funeral?"

"I am not blaming you, Countess. Except that Lorelei needs to curb her wilfulness," Isaak fidgeted slightly. There was no funeral for Dietrich in the aftermath of the attack on Londonium. The Flamevogels swore that when they when to retrieve the corpse, it had vanished. Only a pool of blood was left. There was no love lost between the Terran and the twins. The twins were not above desecrating a corpse to keep him from being brought back to life.

"Goodnight, Isaak. I believe you should sleep as well. Sweet dreams." The Countess dismissed the Magician with a casual wave of her hand. Isaak hated it when the noblewoman saw fit to give herself airs. _How dare she speak to him in that tone? _Somehow, this female unsettled him.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Scherazade is storyteller from the Arabian Nights. There is no love or friendship between most of the Rosenkreuz members. Thanks for the reviews.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Please read and review! I am letting the story sweep me along but I don't know how it will go. You may find someone back from the dead.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Esther," Ion whispered and stood up when the queen of Albion glided into the room. Sir Virgil and Lady Vanessa both stood up to greet their monarch. Abel was busy stuffing his face with the sandwiches Wendy had offered them when they arrived at the palace. Ion stomped on his partner's foot, _hard_. They had eaten a light dinner during the flight so there was no reason for Abel to pig out like this. Abel choked and mumbled some apology or greeting from his cake-filled mouth. Some things never change.

"Ion, Father Abel, you must be tired but it is so good of you to come at such short notice," Esther gave them a huge hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek to Ion. She appeared a lot older to Ion. There was a sickly sweet smell about her that unsettled Ion's keen senses although it was diluted by the generous amount of lavender water she wore. It reminded him strangely of death. The Queen dismissed the Albion Methuselah nobles. She whispered something to Sir Virgil, who nodded before leaving.

"Sorry I didn't call on you sooner… I was worried about you, after…" Ion started. Esther brushed his cheek with her gloved hand. "Ion, you are my dearest friend. It is me who owes you an apology and explanation." She turned her attention to Abel. "Father, I believe you owe me some explanations, regarding a little midnight wedding to which I was not invited…" Father Abel quailed under the glare Esther shot him.

"Ah, forgive me, Esther, I mean, Your Majesty! Her Highness and Mister Avery were so in love, and they had a delicate little matter of urgency." Abel dropped his cup and ducked behind Ion, playing the part of a helpless, cowardly priest.

"A little matter of urgency? She was seventeen and a half! You know Albion law requires the consent of the bride's parents if she is below the age of eighteen! And I so wanted to attend the wedding of my only daughter! Father, I don't know if I should hug you or hit you. Finding out Laura's condition after her coma, wondering who the father was? You could have prepared me for…" Esther's words trailed off as the door swung open. Abel started as Anastasia entered. "This is…"

"This is Anastasia Blanchett Avery, my granddaughter and daughter of my dear Laura," Esther introduced. "That delicate little matter you were referring to." Anastasia giggled. "Good evening, Father Abel, Count Ion…"

_She has her father's eyes._ Ion thought as he took the tiny hand she offered to him and kissed her fingers lightly as an Albion gentleman would. Ice-blue eyes studied him solemnly. The child might have the same flaming red hair as her grandmother and mother, but the eyes were another matter. Esther's blue eyes were sparkling windows to her soul, while Anastasia's were like cold blue stones as they measured him up. Having assessed the Count, she turned to Abel. A puzzled look passed her face briefly.

"Anastasia, that is an unusual name for an Albionian," Abel spoke nervously. "Do you know it means resurrection in the old language?" Anastasia nodded. "That's why Father chose it for me." Ion raised an eyebrow quizzically. If he did his sums correctly, Dimitri was dead within two months of Laura falling into a coma. The princess did not look expectant when Ion was recalled to Rome.

"Dimitri left a letter. He probably wrote it shortly after we found out the baby's a girl in the ultrasound," Esther explained. "I believe he knew he was not going to return. He also left instructions including me inviting you here, as you will see shortly. Ion, Father Abel, I seek your help …" Esther stopped and cast a glance at Anastasia. Her words were cut off as the parlour door opened again.

"Your Majesty," Sir Virgil returned with a small wooden box. "The items Avery entrusted to our care until the Princess comes of age." His sister set up a portable hologram projector and drew the curtains of the parlour. The tension was so thick Ion felt it could be cut with his sword. A dead silence fell over the dimly-lit room as Vanessa switched on the projector. A flickering image appeared in the room, a ghost from the past. A harsh gasp of shock and outrage ran through the room. "Rosenkreuz…" Ion growled under his breath.

"If you are watching this, my gamble has paid off and I am no longer with you," the hologram of a young man smiled. Dimitri had his long brown hair tied back with a white ribbon, as was his habit. More disturbingly, he wore the distinctive uniform of the Orden, complete with the red armband. "My apologies for my deception. I am not just a simple clerk. My true name is Dimitri Nicolas Flamevogel, Lamplighter, Rosenkruez..."

_Did you ever love her? _Esther felt like screaming. She had followed the instructions from beyond the grave, trusted the man she believed sacrificed all for her Laura. Abel placed a retraining hand on her shoulder. The name Flamevogel rang a warning bell in his mind. _Yes, there was a colonist family of that name a very long time ago, entrusted to conduct certain covert research by Cain. Didn't Cain kill them shortly before that fateful meeting with Lillith? _

"Please hear me out. My time is short and they'll be coming for me soon. My mission was to incite unrest in Albion and weaken ties with her neighbours. I confess my involvement in the Cornwall uprising and the Welsh revolts. The death of Lady Spencer was a regrettable misjudgement on my part. My apologies, Sir Virgil. I hope you have got over the loss of your wife, the Lady Christina. Please believe it was never my intention for her to be caught in the Ghetto riots. She was an outstanding lady." Virgil's face darkened and he reached for the 'off' button on the projector. "Let him continue." Vanessa gripped her brother's wrist. Ion nodded. The name Flamevogel sounded familar...

"Everything changed for me when I met my firebird, Laura. She was the one who taught me I could still love someone. I have little hope of her waking from her coma, though I hope that we will meet again someday, somewhere. My little Anastasia, Remember this, Ana, you are a jewel born from the love your mother and I have for each other." The hologram stopped to dab at its eyes with a gloved hand. "I hope your turning was not too unpleasant. I am sorry I was not there for you all this time, little one. I trust your grandmother has cared well for you in my absence. As would my dear friends, the Walshes. I owe you my thanks. Ana, the burden I am about to lay on your shoulders is a heavy one borne by all Flamevogels since the Apocalypse. Open the case, my little one."

Obediently, Anastasia opened the wooden box Virgil placed on the table. She took out an exquisitely crafted crystal and silver pendant shaped like a sunburst. "You hold the Star in your hand, my little one, and the hopes of all Flamevogels, nyet, the hopes of all Methuselahs."

Anastasia nodded solemnly as she slipped the chain over her head. The crystal and silver pendant glinted in the weak light. "I understand. This is no ordinary pendant, isn't it?" The hologram kept looking over his shoulder, as if expecting to be interrupted. His words became hushed and more urgent. When he finally spoke again, it was in a low whisper.

"There is an old legend about the legacy of the Flamevogels that speaks of a lost Ark. Sadly, my mother did not share the secret with me or my twin before she died. I know the Star is the key to great power from a time long ago that was lost to us. You may seek to find the truth behind the legends or destroy the Star, for great danger follows great power. The choice is yours. However, never let the Rosenkruez have the Star, as they will misuse its power. Count Ion, Crusnik, I beseech you to protect my little one should she decide to seek her legacy, for she will be hunted for the Star and her power. One final warning: do not trust the one who wears my face. Farewell."

"Father…" Anastasia reached out with a trembling hand to her father's image. Tears run down her cheeks. The hologram flickered and vanished. "Father!"

Abel was studying the Star as it sat against the blue of Anastasia's pinafore. He had seen the master key of the Ark. Lillith always carried it with her, until she left them. In the chaos that followed, it became lost. True, the form has changed, but he could still make out the master key craftily hidden among the crystals and silver. The key was never very big to start with. All the data compacted into a wafer thin inch-long slip of metal. However, the Crusnik detected the data had been altered for some obscure reason.

The original spacecrafts were now in Byzantinum, Rome and the Ghetto itself. There had been a fourth craft, lost in the mists of time. Location unknown.

"Anastasia…" Esther hugged her grandchild. Already she was questioning her wisdom in cloistering Anastasia all her life. Seth had visited once incognito and bluntly pointed out the impracticality of sheltering the young child from the outside world. The Empress had kindly offered to bring Anastasia to Byzantinum for a holiday but Esther had turned her down politely. There was always the fear that Anastasia would be caught out in the sun, even with Byzantinum's famous wall. However, she could not protect her Ana forever.

Without a word, Anastasia disentangled herself from her grandmother and walked out. Esther reached out as if wanting to run after the girl. "Let her go," Abel murmured. "She has lots to think about, as we all have."

* * *

Darkness. The figure slumped in the armchair twitched his fingers, trying to summon the strength to lift his leaden limbs. How long has it been? Months? Years? He had lost track of time in this chair, in this room, in this alternate dimension where space and time were warped beyond all natural laws. His uniform was drenched in sweat from his exertions. His hair hung limply over his lowered face as his breath came in tortured gasps.

"Good morning, or should it be good night? Have you been a good boy today?" He tries to raise his head at the voice.

"You…" he gasped as the newcomer forced his chin upwards with a gloved hand. He gagged as a feeding tube was forced between his teeth and a foul-tasting liquid sludge poured down his throat. He could feel the slimy mess slipping into his belly, threatening to flood his lungs. His heart thumped painfully against his ribs. Sometimes, he wondered if he had died and this was hell, laid open, totally exposed to the tender mercies of his gaoler.

"There, there, you must keep your strength up," the white-haired Methuselah smiled broadly like a benign grandfather as he removed the feeding tube. His captive fought to focus his eyes on his tormentor. "W-why did you save me? So you can get your highs tormenting me?" The Methuselah's smile did not waver. Instead, he grabbed a handful of brown hair and slammed his captive's head back against the hard back of the armchair.

"It's not your place to ask that, my pretty boy. I am saddened to inform you that the Orden has all but forgotten about you. Isaak has more than enough pretty baubles around him to even think of you."

"Von Mansfield, what do you want me for?" The youth tried not to flinch as gloved hands undid his shirt and examined his chest clinically. Pain lanced through his body at the man's touch. It tore through his nerves and sinews making him arch against his unseen bonds. Finally, the old man concluded his examination and redid the youth's shirt and jacket.

"Nothing much. I will be releasing you from this prison soon. There is a certain young lady whose acquaintance I wish you to make. I'll be leaving you shortly. You will walk out of here and do my bidding. Outside that door a new identity awaits you…" A door appeared out of the shadows before them.

"What makes you so sure I'll listen?" A defiant spark came to the captive's eyes.

"This," the old vampire smiled and closed his fist slowly on empty air. The youth's screams echoed in the darkness until they faded to whimpers. "Remember, von Lohengrin, I have your life in my hands. Ironic, isn't it, Puppetmaster? I created you twice. Once back in that village when I taught you about the strings, once when I dragged your sorry corpse here when everyone's given you up for dead. You are nothing without me. You'll probably be killed by your fellow villagers for your smarts… Bring that young lady to me."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Someone is back. More plots afoot. The Rosenkreuz Orden is not exactly a united front.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Spiffy, yes, Dietrich is back. As to his relationship with Isaak, let's leave it at a love-hate thing. They aren't likely to be lovers, even though their Rosenkreuz comrades seem to think so. Dimitri was inspired partly by Dietrich. I had a moment of what-if-Dietrich-really-fell-for-Esther. But unlike Dietrich, Dimitri was serious about his girlfriend. Any physical resemblance is probably the physical built (tall, slim, silent type) and hair colour. Dimitri probably was referring to someone else, since he probably wrote Dietrich off as dead too.

Shunshou, I also write original fics (laughs) I like to make-up my own (non-Sue) characters to fit in various anime universes.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_A garret in Londinium_

Dietrich opened his eyes to the sloping ceiling of a garret room when he awoke. He was sprawled on a wooden floor. He painfully pulled himself to a sitting position. Sunlight poured in through the open window. He was relived to find that he had not started smoking or anything where the sunlight shone on his exposed skin. At least he hadn't been turned into a disgusting vampire. The furnishings were sparse. A narrow cot, cupboard, a table and a chair were the only pieces of furniture. There was a copy of the Londinium Times on the floor. The date on it gave him a turn.

His hands shook as he flipped open the paper. He pulled himself onto a chair. Fifty years. Von Mansfield had kept him in that hellhole for fifty years! Still, the face that peered out at him from the mirror on far wall was that of a seventeen-year-old youth with brown hair and dark eyes. He didn't look or feel fifty years old. Must be one of the old vampire's many tricks. There were files and papers scattered on the table. Dietrich sighed and set about studying the information…

Many hours later, he lay down on the hard narrow cot, gnawing a piece of slightly stale bread. Too much has happened to the world. Londinium had long recovered from the damage inflicted by the Orden's attack. Isaak was still alive, if one can trust that old vampire. Cain's probably still falling apart… An unsettling feeling washed over Dietrich. Was he falling apart as well? Cain had destroyed his chest then. He could recall the sickening feeling of his lifeblood gushing out… Maybe he's just a walking corpse like his Auto-Jaggers, his strings pulled by von Mansfield.

Esther, that red-haired vixen he met in Istvan, was queen of Albion. She now had a newborn grandson. Why had the papers made no mention of a thirteen-year-old granddaughter? That girl was his intended target. He frowned. Officially, the girl was never born. She was not on any record. There was only one photograph the old vampire had provided in the dossier. It was a bad one taken by an amateur outside the gates with a badly focused zoom lens. The ghostly image showed a girl with reddish hair at the window. She was dubbed the ghost of some long-dead royal by the supernatural magazine where her picture was published.

_A ghost, just like him…_ Dietrich couldn't help but smile at the irony. Did Mansfield expect him to openly waltz into the palace and snatch the princess? There was no sign that she ever left the palace grounds. Night was falling. The old man promised to be back.

* * *

_Londinium wharves, late night_

He was being hunted and he knew it. An Albion knight, he was capable of holding off several assailants, but he had never fought assailants who were already dead. He dodged an axe awing and cursed himself for dallying in Vienna when he should have been there for the Princess' turning. His mother had sent a telegram to Vienna where he was doing his stint as a diplomat, but it had been misplaced. It had taken twenty-five years before his uncle would allow him to use the family name and he had no intention of gracing the obituary page with it so soon.

The irony of the whole thing was it was his own father hunting him. He had not expected to find his father alive but after finding out about the old man's character, it was no wonder his mother lied for the past fifty years.

He struck out with his cane-sword. The blade snapped. A spiked club crashed into his chest, knocking all breath from him. He hit a brick wall with a sickening crack. "Think you can best your sire at his own game? Just like your mother, all passion and no brains." Von Mansfield laughed maliciously as he prodded the limp form. "Burn in hell, Pops," his battered victim cursed before passing out.

"All yours, von Lohengrin," he called out to his companion. Stepping out of the shadows, Dietrich nonchalantly cast out his wires into the man's body.

* * *

_A corridor in the royal palace, Londinium_

"Ana's still holed up in her room. Why wouldn't she come out?" Esther tapped her walking stick against the wooden floor as she paced the corridor. "We Methuselahs are slow that way, I'm sure she will come round," Ion coaxed. He didn't want to see Esther so worried. Wendy came along with a tray of medicine bottles and a glass of water. Forgetting Ion's presence, Esther nonchalantly poured out a couple of pills from each bottle and downed them with a gulp of water.

"Esther, those pills…" Ion's eyes scanned the labels on the bottles with a sinking heart. Esther shrugged and smiled wryly. "The papers are right about my health. These are," she swept her hand over the bottles. "Mostly painkillers and some vitamin supplements. I stopped most of the medication some months ago. They simply don't work anymore."

"Esther…" _It isn't fair! She has suffered so much pain in her life…_ Ion grabbed her hand.

"It's alright, Ion. I have lived a long and fulfilling life for a Terran," she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Will you come with me to the opera tomorrow as a friend? For once, I don't want to be a queen, just Esther…"

The door of Anastasia's bedroom opened a crack. Ice-blue eyes peered out as brisk footsteps came down the corridor.

"Your Majesty," a youngish-looking man with long raven hair walked up to Esther and bowed before her. "Why, Cecil, you are back from Vienna so soon?" Esther smiled and offered her hand for the courtier to kiss. "Mother asked me to return. I hear from Wendy she has turned. Oh, Count Fortuna, I guess my uncle and mother must be with the good priest?"

"They are in the library." Ion replied. Cecil took after Vanessa in both looks and character. He recalled that Vanessa had roped in her son as Dimitri's best man and left the elopement arrangements in his capable hands. _Count Fortuna?_ Ion frowned. Cecil was never one to be formal…

"Cecil," Anastasia stepped out of her room and hugged the newcomer. She always shared a special bond with Sir Cecil Walsh. They both had the misfortune of growing up without their fathers. She heard Cecil's father died during the Londinium disaster fifty years ago during an attack on the Ghetto. Lady Vanessa hadn't even married Cecil's father then…

_Something's amiss!_ Anastasia suddenly pushed Cecil away, stomped back into her room and slammed the door. _It didn't feel like Cecil._

The real Cecil had been disturbingly calm. Not a peek. Dietrich wondered if Von Mansfield had killed the knight for real. No, Cecil was still alive though out cold. He was probably nursing a concussion. The snatches of information he needed were easily retrieved from Cecil's memory. Obviously, he was like an uncle to the princess. However, the girl's reaction was unexpected.

* * *

In the palace library, the normally soft-spoken Count of Manchester was giving free rein to his long-suppressed rage over the death of his beloved wife with a litany of curses.

"Bastard! That bloody bastard!" Virgil cussed and punched the wall. Listening to her brother, Vanessa wondered if she ought to share some of her vocabulary of swearwords. Virgil had exhausted his somewhat limited supply. "He never really got over Christina's death," she explained apologetically to the priest. Abel had been very curious about Dimitri's origins. On hindsight, Vanessa had to admit that they knew next to nothing on the clerk. He claimed to be of Germanic and Albionian parentage. He arrived in the Ghetto with his father at the age of twelve. The Ghetto records appeared to verify his claims, until one noticed that Dimitri's father disappeared from the records without a trace after checking his son into a Ghetto school.

Dimitri attended Albion University and was a model student. He tutored Cecil for a while before Virgil handpicked him for his knowledge of several languages, a useful asset in any diplomatic office. Vanessa smiled at the memory of the charming clerk. A likeable character, yet he had no real past. "If you are going to stand about cussing, get your ass over and help us," Vanessa admonished as she skimmed through the records on the screen.

Abel sighed. So far, they had turned up nothing. It was only after Esther's ascension to the throne that the Ghetto opened her gates. New immigrants came as others left. "Her Majesty should've taken my brother's suggestion to have Ana sent to a Ghetto home. But she couldn't bear the thought of parting with Laura's baby, especially since Laura died during Ana's birth… She has never been outside the palace grounds," Vanessa shrugged and hit the 'Print' key. The printer hummed to life. Virgil calmed down sufficiently to join his sister. "There's an additional problem. The scientists are getting very curious about the origins of the blood sample I had them test for the bacilli."

"Has Anastasia turned?" Abel asked.

"Apparently, yes. The bacilli are active but there is an odd mutation. The princess has an unheard of immunity to UV light. They are demanding answers from me." Virgil buried his face in his hands. "Someone has been spreading rumours about Her Majesty having a bastard child with a certain Methuselah from Byzantinum. Those fools obviously believed this nonsense" _It's all that Empire count's fault for being so chummy with the queen. _

"Immunity to sunlight?" Abel spluttered on his tea, spilling a generous amount on the printouts to Vanessa's chagrin. _Seth's researchers have carried out extensive work for centuries on the problem caused when active bacilli carriers are exposed to sunlight. So far, no satisfactory solution has been found. Was Anastasia's mutation a mere fluke, or something else?_ The research had been abandoned for reasons Seth refused to discuss with him.

"Did I miss something? Old Dimitri still raising hell from beyond the grave?" Cecil strolled in casually. He had been eavesdropping outside. Now he understood why the old vampire was so interested in Esther's grandchild. Seeing Esther so old and frail gave him quite a turn. She was so vibrantly alive back then.

"Cecil, what took you so long?" Vanessa hugged her son and gave him a peck on the cheek. _So Cecil's a mama's boy._ Dietrich fought the urge to push her away. Cecil was stirring.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Please read and review. I rewrote this chapter several times before deciding to introduce a new OC. Vanessa's illegitimate son, Cecil. Von Mansfield's being quite mean to his own son here. I mean, handing him over to Dietrich? It's a bit tricky trying to write for Cecil and Dietrich since Dietrich is pulling Cecil's strings for much of this chapter. I hope it goes down well.

The name Cecil is kind of old-fashioned. Historical fact: Queen Elizabeth I 's chief advisor (and some say the founder of the early British Secret Service) was Sir Cecil Walshingham. So maybe my fic's Cecil's a bit of a dark horse himself.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

This is Dietrich's chapter. Will Anastasia fall for Dietrich's tricks?

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_Lemme go,_ Dietrich heard his captive's moan. How amusing. The Puppet Master grinned inside. Like all his former puppets, Cecil would fight against those threads, trying to reclaim control of his body and ultimately failing. He must be careful. Radu had managed to regain control, even if for a short while. Flamberg was such an amusing puppet before he finally snipped off the man's life like a thread.

He was surrounded by enemies. Who would have thought Esther would become Queen? She now sat in an armchair by the window, chatting with Ion and the Crusnik-priest. They were discussing some plans to catch an opera that evening. She reminded him of a contented tabby cat by a fireplace. Isaak had such a cat once, a grey tabby, until Dietrich decided to turn it inside out. _It would be amusing to see Esther react to a trusted knight spiriting her precious Ana away. _He voiced the thought in his mind.

_Don't you dare!_ Cecil's voice came as a fierce hiss.

_What do you propose to do about it?_ Dietrich replied. _Your loved ones are all around, watching…_ He allowed Cecil to see the room and hear the conversation. _I have your little princess right in front of me._ The knight stopped his struggling.

Ana had finally been coaxed out of her room. She now sat on a Turkish rug, reading aloud from a book to her dolls. Dietrich could not fail to appreciate that the dolls were highly expensive, worth a king's ransom each. Esther must really dote on her Anastasia. The princess' book was a rare copy of the _Lives of Saints_. It must cost a fair fortune. In contrast, the girl had chosen to dress severely in a plain blue pinafore. Almost like a nun. Maybe she was play-acting at being a nun. She even had some strange medallion hanging from her neck.

The Count of Manchester was reading in an armchair by the bookcase, though he was clearly ill at ease with Esther's insistence on an informal afternoon. It probably offended his sensitivities on propriety. Occasionally, his gaze would cross the room to where the youthful-looking Ion sat in animated conversation with Her Majesty. If it weren't for Ion's presence, no doubt he would have turned down the invitation graciously. _Poor stick-in-the-mud uncle,_ Cecil remarked in his mind. _The idea of a close friendship between a Methuselah and a Terran still offends him a bit, does it offend you? _

_Trying to talk your way out? _Dietrich mused. Maybe Cecil was trying to distract him. He was distracted, not by Cecil, but by the door of the sitting room opening. Wendy came in with the tea tray, followed by Vanessa with a tray of mouth-watering cookies.

"Ginger snap?" An unsuspecting Lady Vanessa smiled as she offered her son the tray. "Wendy taught me how to bake them."

"Try one, they're delicious," Wendy smiled. "Sure," He awkwardly took a ginger snap from the tray. It was still warm. _Full of Mother's love, but you wouldn't know, would you?_ Cecil chuckled again. _Shut up!_ Dietrich growled. Maybe he should kill Cecil now. The princess came over for a ginger snap. Her ice-blue eyes studied him intently. Dietrich was sharply reminded of her father and uncle, Dimitri and Ivan. The identical twins possessed the same blue eyes that seemed to look deep into a person's soul. Did she know?

He hated the twins from the start, when they joined the Orden after the fiasco in Byzantinum. On the rare occasion their paths crossed in the Orden, he would find the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. They had not turned then, but he positively found himself viewed as prey by the two youngsters. Thank goodness the old man took care of them most of the time. The brown-haired, blue-eyed pair were fully-fledged members of the Orden by the time of the Albion attack, a few months after they joined.

"Chess, uncle?" Cecil regained control of his voice momentarily. "With pleasure," Virgil beamed. "I was wondering when you will ask. Your Majesty, may I please borrow your chess set?" Esther graciously nodded her assent.

_Why you…_ Dietrich snatched back control. The lapse in concentration had cost him.

_Family tradition. A chess game of a fencing match every time we meet up…_Cecil replied flippantly. _Would you be any good with a rapier? Uncle's an aggressive swordsman. I have yet to win a game as yet. Just lose to him or you will blow your cover. _Dietrich wondered if he could trust the knight. So far, it appeared to check out. Wendy took out a chess set and set it out for the game before leaving the room.

A few moves later…

"You are particularly careless today, nephew," Virgil beamed as he checked his opponent's knight. _Damn you,_ Dietrich growled. He hated to lose. He had played chess before with Isaak and won on many occasions. Never mind if Isaak's a sore loser and they would wind up trying to kill each other. Cecil was dropping hints on how to lose a match convincingly. The vampire sounded fairly amused. That was a lousy move with the knight.

"That's because you are too good for me to beat," he tried to manage a bit of sincere flattery without sarcasm. Dietrich preferred to antagonize Isaak for kicks. Did Cecil butter up his betters all the time? His flattery sounded more like sincere compliments. Anastasia was watching their game from the rug. She now cradled a pretty china doll and hummed a lullaby to it. Her ice-blue eyes darted occasionally to the chess game. Has his cover been blown? He must be getting paranoid.

"Tell me about Vienna, my dear nephew."

"Well…" _Please let me speak to him,_ Cecil urged. _You know next to nothing about the diplomatic office in Vienna._ Cecil's words oozed honesty.

_Why would you help me?_

_I am helping myself. If you mess up, Uncle will send me on a diplomatic mission to New Caledonia, one-way. He promised me that after that little incident with Dimitri. You will either blow your cover or get me sent abroad post-haste for the next fifty years. Besides, you don't want to get my Father angry, do you? If I try to warn them, you can kill me, like you did Radu…_

_Stay out of my memories. _

"Cecil, your move, I'm waiting for your report…" Virgil tapped his bishop on the chessboard. So far, the game was one-sided. "Or are you actually looking forward to a long diplomatic stretch in New Caledonia? I hear there's a ship heading there this evening…" Virgil was very conversational with Cecil, surprisingly for a man known for few words. Reluctantly, Dietrich allowed the knight to regain control of his voice, keeping a tight grip on the other strings. There was no time to rake through the diplomat's mind for the information.

"The Grand Council is most interested in a trade agreement with Albion. However, Herr Schmidt has objections to Clause 54 of the treaty… I am afraid we have to offer them an incentive or sacrifice the clause entirely." Dietrich sensed his captive shift his gaze to the princess as he continued. "Moreover, the cultural exchange will be postponed to late fall. With longer nights, it will be more beneficial to our Ghetto violinists… You know how tightly they control the concert halls. I met with George Evesden. He sends his regards and wishes you well in your latest venture. I would advise you against proceeding with the merger with Germany's auto-manufacturers…"

"Really? Old Evesden's at it again?" Virgil casually checkmated his nephew, his face an inscrutable mask. "Game's over now, in more ways than one."

_What the?_ Dietrich snatched back control from Cecil. He was certain his cover had been blown, but he did not know how. How the hell did the vampire get his sword cane drawn and the point resting on Cecil's neck without him realising it? This action had gone unnoticed by the others for now. The group by the fireplace was still chatting obliviously. The princess was by the French window, studying a doll held up to the light. He would have to brazen his way out somehow. First… _Goodbye, Cecil, it's been nice knowing you…_

_Death before dishonour. _Cecil's reply was resolute and fearless.

_Death before dishonour?_ _You go to hell now…_ Dietrich prepared to end his puppet's life.

What happened next was unexpected. A strong blast of afternoon sunlight gushed in the moment the French window swung open. It fell on Cecil, burning him. Now everyone's attention was drawn to the commotion. Anastasia stood by the open window. She then sprinted over to stricken knight. "Return Cecil! Leave him!" Anastasia was crying as she threw herself on the knight, pinning him down in the pool of deadly sunlight. Her words were in German. The significance was not lost on Dietrich.

Vanessa was screaming hysterically, restrained by Ion lest she runs into the bright pool of sunlight. Virgil was too stunned to move, frozen in his chair, his sword cane now lying on the floor. "The drapes!" Esther shouted. Abel nodded, seized a corner of the drapes and yanked, tearing them free. He ran over to the stricken knight and threw the heavy fabric over both the princess and Cecil. "If you are after me or the Star, I will go to you, on the condition you return Cecil unharmed," Anastasia hissed in German.

Time to drop all pretences. "Why should I trust you, princess?"

"It should be me asking you that." the princess retorted.

"Indeed, why should I surrender my hostage?" Dietrich mocked. The answer came as he felt Cecil's limp body being wrapped up in a drape. "Get him to a hospital, hurry! We may still be able to save his life!" Dietrich now felt the weakness in his puppet. The Methuselah was terribly burnt. The body was almost falling apart with the extensive burns. Even his strings could no longer control its floppy movements. The princess had chosen to maim Cecil Walsh, or even kill him, rather than let him remain a puppet.

Leaning over him, Anastasia winked and made a few hand gestures which Dietrich caught out of the corner of his puppet's eyes. _Tell me where to look for you. _She spelled out in rapid sign language. Apparently in tears, she wrapped her arms around Cecil's neck, placing her ear close to his lips._ Little vixen's a daughter of her father alright._

"Sixty-six, Devil's Acre." He managed to force the words out from those blackened lips before the others pulled her away.

Dietrich released his strings. In Cecil's current condition, it was pointless for him to hold on. True, he could make the necessary repairs with artificial skin and flesh, but he needed the physical body … Dietrich opened his eyes. He was back in that garret room. He was sweating profusely. He must be out of practice. Exhausted, he collapsed from the chair he was sitting on. Could he trust the princess? It's too late for that, isn't it? He closed his eyes.

He was awakened by the painful crack of a steel-capped boot contacting with his ribs. The old vampire was back. "You little moron," Fritzroy spat. "Have fifty years in the dark dulled your wits?"

**

* * *

****Author's Notes:**

Did anyone find the Cecil-Dietrich action confusing? Did anyone catch the hints Cecil kept trying to drop to his uncle? Is Anastasia a unfeeling little bitch in this? Please read and review.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

I am sorry if some are confused by Anastasia's behaviour. She is a very complex character and the driving catalyst for the events in this fic, which also makes Ion and Father Abel's mission more troublesome.

Cecil's actually relaying two codes: one to his uncle, the other to Anastasia. I guess I messed that up.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

It was morning in the palace. Wendy awoke early and went about her work as usual. The Walshes were still at the hospital. They had rushed poor Cecil to the Ghetto hospital just in time. But he was still in danger. Her Majesty had spent the night consoling a much shaken Anastasia. She was very surprised to see a very composed Anastasia in the garden picking flowers. The princess had always been a deep one. Sometimes she acted like the child she is, sometimes, she reminded the nurse of her father, a shrewd one. "Gathering flowers for Sir Cecil, Ana?"

With a shake of her head, the princess stood up with a basket of foxglove. "Wendy, does foxglove tea have any strong taste or smell? I read it settles the heart… poor Grandmother did have a nasty scare, I want to make it up to her."

"It will have the scent of the blossoms I suppose. But too strong a tea's bad for the heart. Her Majesty shouldn't be taking such tea. I would recommend camomile or lavender tea to soothe her nerves. She has been strained recently." Wendy smiled. The princess must have been reading up on the medicinal properties of native Albionian plants.

"Wendy, please go and get some lavender and camomile tea, for Grandmother." The princess gave a beaming smile before trotting off inside the palace. From the conservatory window, Abel watched the exchange with unease. The princess' words the day before had not gone unnoticed by the Crusnik. Also, it was Anastasia who had opened the French window and let in the sunlight. She should have known that direct sunlight was deadly to Methuselahs. There was intelligence behind those ice-blue eyes, perhaps a ruthless intelligence no one had thought she was capable of. The priest had some matters to see to.

* * *

In the Ghetto hospital, Cecil Walsh was heavily bandaged and hooked up an array of tubes and monitors. He was so badly burnt that even his Methuselah regenerative powers had been severely impaired. Vanessa was weeping quietly at his bedside. She was still wearing the apron she had baked the cookies in. Her Majesty sat next to her, holding her hand to comfort her. Ion was dozing on a chair by the door. Virgil stepped into the room.

_Death before dishonour._ Cecil had adopted that motto when he finally got knighted and acknowledged as a Walsh. The count could not help but feel proud of his nephew. A promising successor to the guardianship of the Ghetto the Duchess of Moldova had once pointed out,_ if he lived_. They had worked out a code for relaying secret information while they were detained by the Inquisition in Cologne some decades ago, a minor misunderstanding that resulted in several Methuselah diplomats being besieged in the Empire's embassy building, Dimitri included.

The name George Evesden was a red flag to the Walsh household. Cecil had chosen that as the code for "I am a prisoner without any control over my body, hurry up and kill me." He had meant it as a joke then. The Albionian diplomats had a good laugh over it. But it had come to that. Would he have the heart to kill Cecil? _No._ Virgil frowned. Cecil had been signalling to another person in the room, the princess? Cecil's revelations were very disturbing in their implications. He would have to speak with Vanessa, and the Queen. Virgil sighed and took a deep breath. He placed a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Evesden," It was a mere whisper but the effect on Vanessa was immediate. She leapt to her feet.

"That traitor is back? Is he responsible for this?" she shrieked. The commotion woke Ion. "Whassat?" he muttered. The door of the room swung open.

"Touchy as ever, Nessa?" A low voice purred. A white-haired, whiskered man stood in the doorway, arms folded. "George Evesden," Virgil's hand going to his sword cane as he moved between the newcomer and the women. Ion drew his own dagger, a stiletto, from his boot and waited for a chance to pounce. The newcomer may not have noticed him where he was sitting. "I mean you no mean, Nessa. I am here to see my son, such a good boy he is… Are you thankful you spent that night with me instead of running off to your brother for that last chat? Too bad your kidnap plot failed. It's been a long time, Nessa. I really missed you."

"You killed the others!" Vanessa shook with rage. Her hair rose up in the air like writhing snakes. It was an image of hell that greeted her that when she returned to the rebel hideout. Her comrades had all been killed by the Auto Jaggers that attacked the Ghetto. Their bodies were so badly mutilated that it took a full year to identify them from the Ghetto's DNA records. And before she discovered that the supposed father of her infant son was an impostor. The real George Evesden had died as a child, ten years before the Orden's attack on the Londinium.

"Now, now, I am his father. Don't you trust me, Nessa?" Fritzroy stepped forward. Ion seized this chance to thrust his dagger at him. He had grossly underestimated his opponent. The older vampire agilely sidestepped the thrust and slammed a fist into Ion's stomach. The blond Methuselah bent over and went out like a light. "NO!" Esther screamed. Fritzroy kept a firm grip on his hostage.

"You never were a father to him. You had no qualms using him against his Queen, and the Queen of Albion," Virgil hissed. Before anyone could stop him, Virgil charged in a flash of movement, sword-cane drawn. Fritzroy shoved the limp hostage at him. Virgil managed to avoid skewering Ion and caught the limp form with his free arm, but he lost track of his opponent. Fritzroy rapped a sharp blow with the side of his hand to the back of the count's neck. Virgil crashed to the ground.

Instinctively, Vanessa rushed to her brother. Fritzroy reappeared next to Cecil's bed and stabbed a syringe filled with a strange red liquid into the patient's arm. Esther watched in mute horror as the liquid flowed into the Albion knight's veins. "My last gift to you as a father, son…"

Cecil moaned and thrashed about in his sleep. "What have you done to him?" Esther grabbed the knight's heavily-bandaged hand. It felt terribly hot. "Just a little something to save his life. Unfortunately, it is excruciatingly painful while it works… If he had been less worthy, I wouldn't have bothered…" Fritzroy leapt aside as Vanessa's black tresses tried to impale him. "Farewell." He vanished from the room.

Esther looked around. The room was in shambles. Cecil was crying out and writhing in agony as his mother tried to comfort him. Ion had come round. "Sorry, Esther…" he apologised. Virgil was sitting stunned and rubbing the back of his neck on the ground next to Ion. "Get a doctor, quickly," Esther ordered. Virgil sprinted out in search of one.

"Uncle…" Cecil moaned as he came round. "Hush, save your strength," his mother coaxed.

"No, I must speak… Ana… is in danger… the Orden…" Cecil forced his words out through gritted teeth. He had been reading his puppeteer's mind. Esther gasped and rushed out, followed by Ion. "Your Majesty!" Vanessa cried out but she could not leave her stricken son.

* * *

They must have broken all the Ghetto speed limits in their mad drive back to the elevator. Esther was breathless with anxiety as they rode the elevator up. Ion had to hold her hand to reassure her. "Wendy and Abel will protect Anastasia. Don't worry," he patted her gloved hand although his own heart was pounding wildly. The Orden had made their move. Surely the palace security detail would keep out all intruders… It took a very long while for the elevator to reach ground level but he could not take the stairs with Esther at her age and illness.

"Wendy! Anastasia!" The palace was ominously silent. They made their way through the empty corridors to the nursery. Ion's heart sank as he opened the nursery door to find the nurse lying motionless on the carpet. Esther screamed. "Wendy!" Ion ran to the fallen nurse and shook her. Her eyelids fluttered open. With a soft moan, she sat up dazed. "Where is Anastasia?" Esther asked.

"We were playing hide-and-seek in the nursery," Wendy frowned. "I was looking for the princess… Goodness, did I faint?"

Ion picked up a teacup from the tabletop nearby. His keen sense of smell picked up an unmistakable smell under the scent of jasmine flowers. Half-hidden under the dress of a nearby doll was the medicine bottle and a dropper. "Poppy-juice." He gingerly picked it up.

"Poppy-juice? I was taking that to help me sleep… why would they drug Wendy with my medicine?" Esther frowned. If it were an Orden attack, they would expect the palace to be demolished at least. "The princess offered me a cup of tea…" Wendy shook her head, trying to clear it. "She asked me about teas and herbs…"

"Where's Father Abel?" Ion asked. "He left earlier. He said he had to do something important…" Wendy looked around her in bewilderment. "Where's Ana?"

* * *

Cain studied his wineglass nonchalantly. As usual, von Mansfield was absent from the meeting. The old man was forever busy elsewhere. In fact many of his trusted Rosenkreuz members are occupied elsewhere. Ivan was playing the good priest in Rome as he slaughtered those poor lambs in his care. AX was toothless and on the brink of disbandment. If AX no longer existed, his twin will be left with little choice but to return… Isaak sat unsmiling to his right. The Magician could still come up with some devious plots, but the spark had gone out of him since that Terran brat died.

On his left, the good Countess was happily updating them on who has been recently killed or captured, albeit with a slightly gloating air. No one would interrupt until the list was finished. "Baron Mert-ser of Sodom, slain in battle by the Terror of Minsk…" _Pah, the windbag braggart?_ He would hardly be missed in the Orden. "Margot Helsenski, captured by the Papal army special forces in Denmark, will be transported to the Vatican for questioning on Brother Petros' orders…" A gasp sounded across the table. Margot was one of their up and coming Magisters.

_I'm surrounded by cretins…_ "Send word to the Shadowmaster to have her silenced…" Cain yawned. Lorelei was already asleep in her chair across the table. A slightly glazed look was coming to Isaak's eyes as the meeting drew on.

"Dietrich…" Scheherazade grinned as the Magician suddenly sat up ramrod straight at the mention of that name. "Oops, I mean Dieter and Wilbur Newman, captured by Her Majesty's Secret Service in Albion for promoting unrest. Will be tried in the Ghetto law courts…" she smiled as Isaak scowled at her. "The Pilot has contacted us that he will take good care of them," she added.

_Great,_ since the Ghetto came to light, the Albionians have become a thorn in the Orden's side as well. His dear sister must have been training the Albionian agents somehow. No one can beat Seth at the game of espionage. With a group of Methuselah agents trained to move silently and stealthily in the shadows, Albion may be out of reach… Sometimes, it seemed the entire world is against the Orden. Cain chuckled.

"My Lord, you must save Mar…" That was as far as the vampire got before Cain blew his head off. "Dismissed!" Everyone filed out, gingerly avoiding the fresh corpse, except Lorelei who was still sleeping obliviously, even though the blood had stained her white frock crimson. _Henri Helsenski, father to Margot Helsenski._ Scheherazade jotted down the latest victim's name before rolling up her scroll.

"Very funny, Countess…" Isaak whispered as they filed out. "So the little one's name is Dietrich von Lohengrin," she flashed him a dazzling smile. "I left this out but we must beware of the newcomer, the Terror of Minsk. He is very close to the Tigress of Kiev."

"And close to both the Byzantinum Secret Service and the Empress," Isaak finished. "How like you to feed on gossip, woman…"

"They have been to the Vatican recently." Scheherazade added. "I know that old bitch is planning something. I will not be surprised if there is a diplomatic mission to Albion next."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Anastasia's been a naughty girl, hasn't she? A wee bit schizo. Any guesses what she is up to? Guess who the Tigress of Kiev is.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Abel stared at the Londinium Traveller map in his hands. "I'm lost," he whined, attracting the attention of several passers-by. He sat down on a nearby flight of stairs to catch his breath…

"Hey, you can't sit here, brother!" Abel thought he recognized that strident voice moments before a broom smacked gently into his back. It was Anias de Watteau, the plump sister nun who worked at the nursing home whose stairs he was sitting on. "Come on in and have a cuppa. Hugue will be so pleased to have a visitor." Before Abel could react, she had taken him by the elbow and dragged him into the building. Anias was every bit as cheerful as her brother was melancholic.

"Thirteen cubes of sugar?" Abel nodded. Anias dropped the sugar cubes into his tea. "I am going to leave you boys to catch up." She was gone in a rustle of starched fabric.

Hugue sat in a wheelchair by the window, across the tea table in the small parlour. His now-snowy hair was neatly combed into a ponytail that rested down one shoulder. He seemed very contented as he sat in the sunshine. Hugue had mellowed after those years with his sister. He was less cold now. "Hello, Abel. It has been a while…" He awkwardly stirred his cup of tea.

"I have been busy, you know, trouble in Morocco, then in Cathay… next in the Baltic."

"Ion's been a good help, hasn't he?"

"Definitely," Abel agreed, thinking of the many narrow calls he had been in.

"Father Hugue, sorry to interrupt…" a timid young sister peered through the parlour door. "The doctor says Brother Matt's on his last legs… I think it is time for the…" Her lip trembled. Hugue nodded.

"I understand. Sorry, Abel. I have some work to do. Sister Eliza, please…" Abel watched as Hugue was wheeled out to administer the last rites to one of the home's dying patients. Oh no! He had clean forgotten about Devil's Acre!

"Hugue, do you know where Devil's Acre is?" He ran out into the hallway but Hugue was gone. Instead he found Sister Anias. She blinked in surprise at his question. "Dearie me, that is a rough place to be. Would you have any business there?"

* * *

In the parlour of a rundown townhouse on Devil's Acre, Dietrich was nursing several fresh bruises on his side when someone knocked on the door. He ignored it. Probably just some travelling salesman or worse, a travelling priest, he thought. A few odd clicks later, the door swung open. "I keep my word as a princess. I would expect you to be more eager to meet me after all the trouble yesterday," a girl's voice called out in heavily accented German. Anastasia nonchalantly slipped the bodkin she had just used to pick the lock back into her handbasket.

"You are either a very brave girl or a fool," Dietrich hurriedly pulled down his shirt. "Why are you here?" The princess was dressed plainly in a blue dress like some young maidservant out on an errand. A bonnet covered most of her hair. He looked behind her, expecting someone else to be with her. She was alone.

"Tea?" The little girl had slipped past him and was merrily putting a pot of water on the hob. She had fished out a box of Scott's Rose Tea from her basket. "I don't like anyone to hurt my grandmother or my favourite servant," she added in English. she reminded him of a much younger Esther back when she used to make tea for him in that church kitchen in Istvan, only more business-like, no giggling silliness at all.

"Rose tea, they are famous for it. The creator of this blend was knighted by my great-great-grandmother," Anastasia poured out the fragrant ruby-red brew into two battered tin mugs. "Let's get down to business. You probably know who I am, since you have probably picked poor Cecil's brains…"

He could easily slip his wires around her now but her eyes were watching his every move even as she sipped daintily at her tea. He sipped at his, watching her cautiously. They were like a snake and mongoose, circling each other and waiting for an opportunity.

"Why are you here?" he asked again. She had set the table for tea, with spicy ginger-snaps on a chipped plate on the table. She must have packed them from the batch Lady Vanessa baked yesterday. She chewed slowly on one.

"For someone who has not been outside the palace, you are amusingly streetwise to make it here in one piece."

"I have my methods. Do you believe this building is being watched? Do you think Grandmother will let me out so easily?"

"I don't believe you." He was unsure. Dietrich always thought himself a sound judge of people, but with a Flamevogel, it was like trying to read a mirror.

"Did the one who wears my father's face send you? If yes, tell him to meet me in person and not send his shadow hounds after me. It gets fairly tiresome after a while…" Dietrich almost choked on his tea. _The one who shares Dimitri's looks can only be his identical twin, Ivan. Was Ivan after the girl as well? Was he in cahoots with the Pilot, Fritzroy?_ He had been under the impression the old vampire was working alone… Their mugs were almost empty now.

"Are you with the Rosenkruez? I don't think you will tell me of their plans even if you were with them, would you?" she smiled.

Something was wrong! Dietrich suddenly felt cold. He was breaking out in a profuse sweat. He felt weak, almost as if he was having Cain blow his chest apart all over again. "By the way, I do hate having to hurt my friends. The tea was laced with a healthy dose of foxglove. One of the benefits of being a Methuselah is a higher tolerance to poisons. Pretty helpful, don't you think?" Anastasia emptied her mug and let it drop onto the floor with a clatter.

Abel came bursting into the parlour. "Anastasia! Are you hurt? Oh my goodness, how, what, why…" he smattered, recognizing the young man sitting across the table from the princess. Dietrich tried to stand but he felt awfully dizzy. He stumbled. Someone caught him. Fritzroy. The old vampire must have been watching them all this while. "Anais, stay back!" he called out a warning to his companion. "Who are you?" Abel growled and placed himself between the princess and the newcomer.

"I am Fritzroy von Mansfield for now, Pilot, Rosenkruez," the old vampire smiled benignly as he carried Dietrich in his arms like a limp rag doll. "A nearly-fatal dose of foxglove in the rose tea? I expected no less from Dimitri's daughter. I expect you got a pistol loaded with silver bullets under your skirts as well…"

"In fact, I do. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," Anastasia replied fearlessly. "I have no intention of handing over the Star to you." She hitched up her skirt and removed the pistol taped to her thigh, pointing it at the other vampire.

"Keep it, child. Only you can activate it. Open the gates to a new dawn, to Heaven or Hell!" With a swirl of shadows, both the vampire and Dietrich were gone.

"Is everything alright?" Anais called as she came running. "Yes," Abel managed a weak squeak. His mind was still reeling from what he had just witnessed. It was impossible, that person should be dead. Before he could recover, Anais suddenly knelt before the princess. "Your Highness." Anastasia acknowledged her with an imperious nod and beckoned her to rise. What was going on? Anastasia's a thirteen-year-old girl who has never set foot outside the safety of the palace. Anais should not know her…

"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do. Come along now, Father Abel…" It was Anastasia who took him by the hand and out of the house as if he were some lost child.

* * *

The dangers of Devil's Acre manifested themselves suddenly as they stepped out into the street. Anais was leading when a footpad attacked her, stabbing her in the chest and snatching her purse. The sight of the elderly sister stumbling with blood pouring from her chest wound snapped Abel out of his trance. "Stop!" He sprinted after the thief. Anastasia was faster. A silver bullet zipped past Abel and through the neck of the thief, killing him instantly.

"Oh, your Highness…" Anais gasped and stood up. Her habit was still bloodied but she was no longer displaying any ill-effects of her earlier stabbing. "You just broke the only rule in the White Rose Society… I'm so sorry…"

"Take my name off that list, will you?"

The White Rose? A few vague pieces suddenly came together in Abel's mind. He had contacted the White Rose Society many times over the years for help, starting with the Neverland orphans. The secretive Albion group was dedicated to peace and non-violence. The late Queen Bridget was its founder. Many other high-ranking Albionians are its members. They were rumoured to have only one rule: non-killing. Anyone who broke that rule must leave the group…

"Anais? Your wound…" There was definitely something different about Anais. He had not really focused his attention on her presence like now. She had always assumed the role of a caring sister.

"Abel, please keep this from Hugue. I am a faerie, an artificial vampire. When I was taken as a child, they carried out some experiments on me before I managed to escape with a few others. One of them was an Albionian girl who took me into the Society. My ability to heal most wounds is one of side-effects from then. Knowing Hugue's feelings towards vampires…. Let's get out of here before the cops come. Tea at my place? Oh, mustn't forget the list…" Anais casually picked up her purse and dragged an old blanket over the corpse. "Give him the last rites, will you?"

* * *

Won death-duel with that upstart distant cousin trying to usurp his place? Check. Fixed up Cain's body? Check. Unwillingly let Lorelei drag him to the local Terran carnival so she could unleash hell? Check. Isaak was worn out. The thought of sleep was never so appealing. Without turning on the lamps, he undressed and crawled into his bed. Wait, someone else was in his bed… Someone with soft brown hair, pale skin… and ought to be dead and rotted…

"Dietrich! What are you doing in MY bed?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Dietrich will not die just yet. He has underestimated Ana or do you think he is getting a bit slow after his imprisonment by Fritzroy. I will reveal more about the enigmatic Anastasia. Poor Abel has the carpet yanked out from under him in this chapter. All his old assumptions get torn down between Anais and Anastasia. Please read and review.

Do you think Anastasia is an innocent helpless princess caught up in things too big for her or is she somehow in control?


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

Glad my characters are generating some feedback from my readers. Anastasia is probably one of the more complex Trinity Blood characters I have come up with. She's like a darker version of Esther. In part, she was inspired by Seth, Caterina and a bit of old Dietrich as well.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Isaak, Isaak, you don't want to wake Cain from his afternoon siesta, do you?" Fritzroy chuckled as he stepped out of the shadows in the room.

"You! You have a hand in this sick joke, don't you?" Isaak prodded the limp form on his bed. Dietrich let out a weak moan. He was alive… "Nice of you to take Lorelei out last night instead of me, so this is a little payback. Wouldn't get too erm, passionate with him. He's taken a solid dose of foxglove, courtesy of a little Albionian miss…" The Pilot slipped out of the room.

Foxglove? He took hold of that thin wrist. The boy's pulse was erratic. The skin covered with a cold sweat. Isaak had a little knowledge of poisons from his brief liaison with the late Madame Montespan, the Orden's Poison Mistress. Hadn't she tried to poison him with her concoctions on more than one date? He had learnt the virtue of keeping some common antidotes on standby, and it happened foxglove was one of the Madame's favourites. True, it wasn't fatal to Methuselahs unless in high doses, but the side effects of a sufficient dose were unpleasant all the same. With surgical precision, he filled a syringe from a brown vial and injected Dietrich in the forearm.

* * *

"Anyone care to explain what is going on?" Abel wiped his glasses and faced the two ladies sharing the table in Anais' parlour. They had returned to the nursing home in silence after leaving Devil's Acre and sat in silence, waiting. Hugue was sitting up with one of the home's inhabitants. The brothers and sisters were busy in the main wing, away from Anais' small parlour. "What do you know about us, the White Rose Society?" Anais finally broke her silence. 

"I understand from the Duchess of Milan," Abel paused as he recalled Caterina with a stab of sadness. "That you are a group founded by Queen Bridget to promote peace and non-violence. Highly fashionable among the upper class of Albionian society, although your membership hail from all walks of life. At the same time, you see yourselves as the custodians of Lost Technology… Virgil was one of you until some years back when he was forced to kill in order to save Queen from assassination …"

"You are correct on most parts, Father. Virgil's leaving due to his breaking our vow of non-killing is a grave loss to the Society. He had been one of us since he was a child, _more than a hundred and twenty years ago._ Since Virgil left, there has not been a Methuselah in the Albion branch of the Society. It is almost a tradition for at least one Walsh and an Albionian royal to be in the Society. The Society was founded by Queen Bridget the First and Verona Walsh, the Methuselah architect of the Ghetto and Countess of Manchester, _eight centuries ago_. The Count then was a Terran rake, a drunkard who finally drove Verona to seek shelter in the vast wilderness of the Continent with her youngest son and daughter. She left her eldest sons behind in the Ghetto. Hence, the Society spread outside Albion. The White Rose has members in many places. Istvan, Berlin, even Milan… The late Cardinal Sforza's mother was a member, as were Queen Esther's parents and the Istvanian abbess who raised her…" Anais stopped to sip at her tea before continuing.

"One of the aims when the Society was first formed was to safeguard the wealth of knowledge until humanity is ready. The Church fears this knowledge can be dangerous if they fell into the wrong hands. Their solution was to destroy this knowledge under the guise of carrying out God's work. We are not against the Vatican, Father, we never were. But we cannot let this knowledge be lost. We try to exercise caution when recruiting our protégées to pass on this knowledge but occasionally, there are renegades, like James Barrie and those scientists who experimented on me. A few centuries back, some of them broke away from the Society and founded a new organization in Berlin with the knowledge learnt from us, the Rosenkruez Orden. They were a small irritant then, but they grew in power, thanks in part to Contra Mundi and von Kampfer. Yes, we watch, but we cannot interfere, only educate the most promising of our young so that they may one day rectify our mistakes…sadly…" Anais cast an almost regretful look at the young Anastasia.

"I know what you are thinking, Grand Mistress," Anastasia shrugged. "I have been educated in numerous languages and disciplines save for the most closely guarded knowledge. Will my leaving the White Rose be so demerital to Albion since the Ghetto has come into the open? After all, wasn't the initial aim of the Ghetto to be an archive of the lost technologies? Uncle Gilbert and Uncle Albert are members of the Society, are they not? Surely they can serve the same purpose as I my presence here achieves."

"The princes lack the special understanding required to be taught the lost arts, unlike Princess Laura," Sister Anais summed up.

"I am not my mother, Grand Mistress," Anastasia stood up. "You, Virgil and even Grandmother! You don't know me! I'm going to Cecil's." she left in a huff. Without batting an eyelid, Anais walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out an album.

"She's right," Abel observed. "We expect her to live up to our expectations… Why are you sharing this secret with me? Surely there was a reason why you have kept the White Rose Society's working hidden…"

"Necessity. After all, you have been entrusted with Anastasia. It was unfortunate that we were unable to initiate Esther into our Society when she was younger, given the situation in Istvan back then. It might have made educating Ana a lot easier. Due to her somewhat irregular parentage, many of us felt that she should not be initiated into the Society, including Virgil. However, Cecil and I have faith that she will be an asset to the nation someday…There is another thing that might be useful to you…Ah, here it is." Anais flipped to a faded photograph. "The founders of the White Rose." The photo showed two young women dressed in old-fashioned hoop gowns and starched collars. Abel's attention was immediately drawn to the raven-haired woman in it. There was something eerily familiar about her features.

"Ah, I see you have spotted the likeness. Verona Walsh's maiden name was von Kampfer. The last the White Rose in Albion heard of her, she and her daughter were in the lost city of Shiloh. We believe they may have accessed some forbidden knowledge and later imparted this knowledge to their descendants and most trusted protégées. One of their protégées formed the Rosenkruez, his name was…"

"You seem to be very well-informed," Abel remarked. He was feeling a bit annoyed with Anais for letting Hugue trudge the length and breadth of the known world while she was safe and sound in Albion. The intelligence gathered by the Society should have informed her of her elusive brother's whereabouts. "Why did you not look for Hugue earlier? Even if you are a faerie…" He immediately regretted his harsh words as the elderly sister hugged herself, trembling.

"I watched them die. Those children who escaped with me. At first they will be alright, normal… then years later, they sicken and die slowly and in agony. It was terrible. When they told me Hugue was alive, I can't put him through that. I don't know why I alone was spared for so long," Anais whispered. "At least now, even if I were to sicken, I will not let Hugue go through…" she looked towards the parlour door and froze. Hugue. _How long had he been there?_ Awkwardly, Hugue wheeled himself in.

"Anais, why didn't you tell me?" Tears were running from those blue eyes…

"Hugue…" Anais gasped, unsure how to react. The photo album fell onto the floor. "Excuse me," Abel slipped out of the parlour. The siblings needed to be alone for now. He should find Anastasia. He found her at the doorway. Dusk had fallen while they were in Anais' parlour. "Anastasia, let's go back," he took Ana's hand.

"No! It is dark outside. I am afraid of the shadows… Bad things lurk there…" she snatched her hand out of his. The fear in her voice was too real for him to deny. They would have to wait for the lamplighters to light the street lamps before she would agree to return home.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Hugue gets a bit of a cameo here. I have tied von Kampfer's family to the Walsh's and the White Rose to the Rosenkruez Orden. I always wondered why in the anime there are pockets of lost technologies that pop out every now and then outside Byzantinum. Examples are the concentration in Albion of technology, Maria Kader's Star of Sorrow in Istvan and Isaak's somewhat satanic summoning of his shadow demons. So I did some explanations of my own.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

The palace was in chaos when they returned in a hired coach. Anastasia had been strangely subdued, even clingy. She clung onto the priest throughout the ride. "Your Highness!" Wendy cried out when they entered via the servants' entrance. Before they knew it, Esther was there, hugging her granddaughter and crying. "Ana, where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere!" Ion was there as well, staring at Abel suspiciously.

"Ah, sorry for any trouble caused. We simply went out to visit Hugue…" Abel lied. Ion rolled his eyes in disbelief. Abel was a poor liar. "Hugue? How's Father Hugue?" Esther missed the awkward lie. She was too full of relief to be mad at Abel or Anastasia. "He is doing well," Abel lied again. This time, Esther raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Before she could speak, Virgil came into the hallway.

"Your Highness," the Count of Manchester greeted Anastasia with a bow. The princess nodded, somewhat stiffly. "Virgil Walsh, whatever questions you have can wait," she whispered.

Virgil had many questions he would like to know the answers to. Cecil was still in no condition to enlighten him and Anastasia did not show any inclination to do so either. The princess appeared more grownup than she had been just a few days ago. With a start, he was reminded of his late clerk. Dimitri wore many faces in the years he worked for the diplomatic service. He could be a sympathetic listener, a callous rake, indifferent or attentive, caring tutor, eager student… The list was endless. Yet, there were times when the mask slipped. Dimitri had an aura of purpose Virgil had put it down to a desire to serve his nation, until his revelations in the disc he left for his daughter. Now he was sensing the same from the princess. Cecil would probably know better since he was close to her. Reluctantly, he took his leave. There was someone he was scheduled to meet with Prince Gilbert regarding a trade treaty with the Empire.

* * *

"Ion?" the white-haired priest looked up from his paper when the Methuselah stepped into the conservatory later that night. They were alone since Esther and Wendy had ushered Anastasia off to bed. Ion sat down in an empty armchair facing Abel. "Alright then, speak up. What exactly happened? You didn't slip Wendy poppy juice simply to take the princess visiting Father Hugue, did you?" 

"No, I didn't…" Father Abel put down his paper. It had been a long day, and it was a long story. In addition, he did not have all the pieces to it. He trusted Ion, but will it be a betrayal of the trust Anais showed letting him in on… His thoughts were interrupted by a gasp from Ion. "Grandmother!"

The Duchess of Moldova, Mirka Fortuna, was wheeled into the room. She looked older. Her pale hair was mostly white now. Pushing the wheelchair was a black-haired girl. Seth. She was dressed as a Byzantium servant girl but Abel could recognize Crusnik 03 anywhere. Seth grabbed Abel's hand playfully. "It has been a while, Brother. It took some persuasion to get permission to speak with Esther and you. Let's leave Mirka and Ion to catch up." She skipped out. Abel shrugged and followed. He was not too surprised when instead of leaving Seth left the door ajar and stopped about ten feet down the corridor where her Crusnik hearing will be able to pick up any conversation.

"Where have you been all these years, Ion? Gallivanting about the known world when you should have been serving the Empress! I am very disappointed in you… I have raised you from infancy…" Ion sighed. Grandmother was in one of her moods. He first noticed them about ten years after he first started on his quest during a brief stop in the capital. Mirka was scandalized that her heir-apparent had forsaken promotion and prestige in the Imperial court.

"Grandmother, there is always Mirvena…" He thought she had appointed his second cousin Mirvena Fortuna, twelve years his senior, as her new heir, after he fled from his own engagement. Mirka had set up the match without his consent, as was common practice for most noble houses in Byzantium. _Those highborn marry for politics, rarely for love._ He liked Mirvena, but not enough to marry her. Mirvena married some count or baron from somewhere in Africa, the last time he heard.

"Mirvena Fortuna is dead. Killed in the uprising in Timbuktu. Took a silver bullet to the heart for her worthless husband. Fair bit of good it did. They beheaded him after that. And no, they didn't leave any children." No heir for the House of Moldova. Ion felt a wrench. Mirvena used to take him on walks in the garden when he was a child and Grandmother too busy with work. She was a cheerful woman. Hadn't she jokingly told him to grow up before marrying her when he announced his decision to break off the engagement? It would never have worked out.

"Well, even if you aren't keen on court service, I will feel much obliged if you will settle down and produce an heir for the Fortuna line! Your little stunt with Mirvena was legendary. The gossips claimed you eloped with some servant. You have no idea…"

Abel winced as Mirka berated Ion mercilessly. Having heard enough, Seth strode away. Abel followed. "She is pushing the outer limits of Methuselah longevity at 370. She gets a bit short-tempered at times, forgetful too. I'm considering appointing a new Head of the Secret Service but it will probably kill her if I don't appoint a Fortuna. It's a pride thing, I suppose. The post has always been held by the family," Seth whispered. "Ion's the last one of her line. She is desperate for Ion to take up her mantle…"

"I'm sorry about taking Ion from your court." Ion could have had a cushy life as a noble in Byzantium instead of hard travelling on the road on a dangerous mission with him. Sleeping in pigsties, or roughing it, constantly hungry… They were constantly at the mercy of weather, bandits, and pirates and once, they had even fallen prey to slavers…

"He made his own choices. Anyhow, being Head of my Secret Service is a dangerous job, every bit as dangerous as your mission, Brother. I have lost five of them to assassination attempts. Don't be too surprised. Suleyman wasn't the only noble to get ideas about rebellion. What happened to Mirka should never have happened..." Seth closed her eyes with a sigh. "Sometimes, I wish you were with me. The court can be a viper's nest at times."

"What happened to Mirka? Isn't it just old age?" They were on a balcony now, overlooking the vast palace gardens.

"Assassination attempt. She almost died. The blade severed her spine. We managed to save her, but she is in constant pain…" Seth hugged her shoulders as she stepped onto the balustrade. "The drugs she has been on since probably clouds her judgement half the time. She doesn't always mean what she says. I hope Ion doesn't take it too hard. I have heard from Esther about Anastasia. What do you intend to do?"

"Let her have some time to think first. She has been through a lot." Abel sounded doubtful.

"You could bring her to Byzantium. Forget about the Vatican, Brother, Albion and the Orden… I can let her have a place in my Empire," Seth walked carefully along the balustrade, her arms outstretched for balance.

"Are you suggesting that you may offer her a post in the court?" The imperial nobles would probably be up in arms. They were a close-knit society. Even Methuselahs from the Outside weren't always welcome.

"Why not? I had a few words with her earlier. She strikes me as an intelligent child…" Seth flashed a cute smile, reminding him of a long-ago time when she broke his goldfish bowl and secretly got a replacement fish. "Seth, you are keeping something from me, aren't you?"

Shattering glass from the conservatory brought their conversation to an abrupt end.

* * *

**Author's notes**

Not much going on in the Vatican for now. Still Albion and a secret diplomatic visit to Albion by Seth and Mirka. I hope Seth is not too OOC.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. If you are following the manga or novel, please treat this as AU. This fic is based on the anime.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

"She threw a lamp at me. OW! Father, please be careful!" Ion winced as Abel tied a bandage around his head. The lamp broke a window after Ion dodged the makeshift projectile. Mirka then threw a pewter tea flask at Ion. One order from the Empress was all it took for Mirka to calm down. The Empress Seth had apologized to Queen Esther for the commotion and damage done. Queen Esther readily forgave Mirka for the broken window and lamp. Mirka had left with Seth.

"Father? Ion?" Esther called out as she rapped on the door of the guestroom. "Oh dear, I better help…" Esther murmured when Abel opened the door and she saw the slipshod bandage perched precariously on Ion's head. The Count of Memphis felt more reassured when Esther rearranged his bandage. The injury would heal shortly. "I hope there's no concussion, after all, it was a heavy flask. Maybe we should drop by the hospital…"

"Please don't bother, Esther," Ion reassured her. "I feel fine, really." Maybe they should be making plans regarding Anastasia's future.

"I have spoken with Ana. She wants to go to Rome." _What on Earth?_ Abel gave a start. Surely it must be some coincidence. Esther shrugged. "I have told her about how beautiful Rome was as I remembered, since she was a toddler. I guess she wants to see it for herself. You will keep her safe, wouldn't you?"

"I promise, Esther," Ion promised. Abel nodded, although he was certain Anastasia was fairly capable of protecting herself.

* * *

Surprising news from the Ghetto hospital came the next morning over breakfast. It wasn't everyday you dine with royalty, the Queen of Albion and a princess to be exact. Father Abel was very at ease as he wolfed down his breakfast with a vengeance. Esther gave Ion a resigned smile when he passed her the sugar bowl for her tea. Anastasia nibbled delicately at a cinnamon bun between sips of her tea. Ion picked at his scrambled eggs on toast. His mind was still on last night's fight with his grandmother. It was then that Wendy announced the arrival of the Count of Manchester.

"Cecil has recovered?" Ion repeated in disbelief when informed of the news. The Albion knight was near death when he last saw Cecil. His injuries were almost fatal. "The doctors are very surprised by his recovery," Sir Virgil nodded.

"Are there any after-effects from whatever it is he was injected with?" Esther asked.

"Well, according to Vanessa, he was in great pain for about six hours. Then he developed a terrible thirst for fresh blood. The standard blood tablets couldn't ease it. However, the thirst has passed and he has healed completely by morning. They can find no unusual traces in his blood or other ill-effects but they will keep him warded for another two days."

"Grandmother, can we go visit Cecil?" Anastasia piped up as she kicked her legs under the table. "Please," she added with an angelic smile.

* * *

Virgil was not exactly pleased when an hour or so later, their party, including Anastasia and Father Abel, made their way to the private ward where Cecil Walsh was staying. Ion was still lost in his thoughts as he lagged behind. Then he saw an unexpectedly familiar person entering a ward… _Shouldn't that person be back in Rome?_ He excused himself.

Cecil has had his bandages removed and now sat in his bed reading a copy of the Albion Daily. Lady Vanessa was worn out by her vigil and had fallen asleep on a chair by the bedside. "Good morning, Uncle Cecil!" Anastasia leapt onto his lap with little ladylike decorum.

"Morning, my lady," Cecil planted a kiss on the back of her hand. "I am sorry about hurting you. Does it still hurt?" Anastasia asked with a little frown on her face.

"Your smile is worth it all," Cecil replied glibly. Satisfied, Anastasia clambered off the bed. "Will you come with me to Rome, Cecil?"

"Sorry, princess. I am afraid I am person non-gratis in Rome since my little run-in with the Inquisition some years back. A minor misunderstanding. I shot a couple of them with a Winchester rifle. I don't suppose many of them lived," Cecil apologized candidly.

"That was so long ago, surely they must have forgotten…" the princess wheedled. She tugged at the loose ends of her braids.

"Not until Cardinal Avignon has gone to his eternal reward. I shot both his nephews in the kneecaps," Cecil shrugged. "You'll be in good hands, wouldn't you?" He winked at the princess and shot a meaningful glance at the princess' appointed future guardians. Anastasia nodded and planted a chaste kiss on Cecil's cheek. Poor Virgil looked as though he would have apoplexy at that breach of protocol.

"Virgil, let it pass. Little Ana will not be a princess of Albion after this," Esther dabbed her eyes with a hanky. She would miss her granddaughter.

"Father, do you suppose it will be too much to ask you to walk with me in the hospital courtyard? They have a lovely garden," Cecil asked. There were now parks and green spaces in the Ghetto to add colour to the monotony of steel and concrete, a motion by Lady Vanessa while she was the welfare committee head for the Ghetto. They must talk, away from Virgil and Esther.

* * *

Machines hummed and whirred around the patient in Ward 45. She has been in a coma since she was first rushed to the Ghetto hospital a few decades back. Dressed in plainclothes, Peter Neverland Walsh sighed and brushed a few stray wisps of white hair from her sleeping face. "Sleeping beauty," he whispered to no one in particular. _Except no magical kiss would wake this sleeping beauty. _It hurt him to see that there was little change in her condition…

"Father Peter?" Ion called out. He felt as if he were trespassing on this private moment. Peter blinked away a stray tear. "We weren't expecting you… How's the inquest into Vaclav's death and that disturbance?" the Count pretended not to notice.

"Not too good for Thomas. They have him detained pending further investigation. Mother Eris has been ill since they found Havel. The inquest ruled Havel's death as misadventure. Thank God they didn't rule suicide." I_t would be a gross injustice to Father Havel if they did. _"There is no way it was an accident. Eris sensed murder all over the scene. That's what has been making her ill. There is talk from the College of Cardinals about disbanding AX, including Cardinals Niall and Benedictia. Most of our current members are either too old, ill or too young…"

"What will happen to us?" _What about Tres and Carmen? Will they scrap the Gunslinger and Iron Maiden battleship? If they scrapped the Iron Maiden II, what will happen to Carmen? _

"If it is any consolation, Benedictia is proposing we transfer Tres and the battleship to her diplomatic corps. We may have to re-programme Tres' database to serve as her bodyguard… I am not too sure if Carmen can accept working for Benedictia. She is always a free spirit… For the rest of us," Peter paused. "Eris will probably continue running her orphanage, I could sign up as maintenance mechanic for Tres and the battleship." Peter busied himself arranging a bunch of roses in a vase on the side table.

"She was so alive back then," he whispered wistfully. For a moment, he was back in that casino, a bored youth, when an apparently drunk Carmen de Asturias came into his life. It was when he finally and red-facedly, disentangled her arms from around his neck that he discovered his wallet missing and the not-so-drunk Carmen making a getaway. He cornered her by the roulette table when her father showed up to bail his errant offspring out of trouble. Father Leon received a slap from his daughter, in addition to a few choice curses for his trouble. The rebellious Carmen had been living with a group of unsavoury characters after she ran away from the orphanage where she grew up. They now knew her so-called friends then included Isaak Fernand von Kampfer the Magician and others from the Orden.

* * *

"Isaak, urgent meeting! The Shadowmaster has reported something that the Master is very interested in." Isaak awoke to the sound of rapping on his bedroom door. _Scheherazade, Countess of Samaria. _Nursing a stiff neck from sleeping in his chair, he got up. Then he remembered his roommate. _Damn! All hell will break loose if anyone found out about Dietrich being still alive. _

"Urgent meeting now! Open this door or you will need a new one!" The bed curtains were pulled around the sleeping patient bare seconds before the countess lost her patience and splintered the heavy mahogany door with her flaming sword.

"I was getting dressed, Flamberg," Isaak managed to sound annoyed as he made a show of fumbling with his shirt-buttons. "Father Flamevogel has an irritating habit of bringing about meetings at awkward times, doesn't he?" Flamberg put away her sword. The Siren, Lorelei, was tagging behind her black taffeta skirts in a lacy white nightgown. A hand sticking out from the bed curtains drew her attention. Unnoticed by the Methuselah adults, the young vampire tiptoed over to the bed…

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

From my earlier chapters, the new Flamberg is Countess Scheherazade (coincidentally, Radu's fiancée). I hope this is not too confusing. Isaak's teeny weeny secret is gonna be unveiled. Wonder what conclusions the lady will draw. I will try to get Contra Mundi more fic-time. Should he attack the palace again? Or Albion?


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. If you are following the manga or novel, please treat this as AU. This fic is based on the anime.

More action? Or more drama? You've got it.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"Flamberg, allow me to congratulate you on your recent promotion to Magister. A toast, Countess?" Isaak nonchalantly mixed himself a blood tablet with claret. Scheherazade only made a derisive sound. Isaak smirked. He knew she never touched wine. Lorelei studied her little discovery, one Terran teen in Uncle Isaak's bed. Dietrich opened his eyes slowly. He saw an angelic face looking into his. _Must be a hallucination of some kind brought on by the poison or…_ He tensed his muscles when he saw her pearly white fangs. He felt weak from his poisoning. The blond angel started to sing softly.

Gingerbread. He could smell baking gingerbread. He was in his little bed in the little cottage in the German village where he was born. "Dietrich! Mother! Our little boy's awake!" Father? Didn't Father hate him? Now Father was holding him in a fierce but loving bear-hug. Dietrich realized he was a seven-year-old. Didn't Father try to drown him? His mind felt fuzzy.

"Dietrich, don't scare us like that again," Mother came running and smothered him with kisses. "When you fell down the well, we thought we lost you! How do you expect us to continue without our beloved little boy?" He fell down the well? His memory failed him. Father and Mother were smiling fondly at him. Father was ruffling his hair, not hitting him. Mother was humming a little melody as she coaxed him to swallow little spoonfuls of cinnamon-laced porridge… It was so surreal but despite his reservations, the puppeteer relaxed. He did not feel the pinprick of fangs on his neck. Lorelei started to feed off her unresisting prey, humming between sips of blood.

"Lorelei! Where is that girl?" Countess Scheherazade realized her charge was gone. Then she saw Lorelei's foot, clad in a white stocking and black leather buckle-shoe, sticking out from Isaak's bed curtains. Before the Magician could stop her, she pulled the curtains apart.

"Drop that now! You don't know where that has been." At the countess' words, Lorelei released her prey and wiped her bloodstained lips with the back of her hand. Blood oozed from the twin wounds on Dietrich's neck. His face was ashen. The steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life.

"A Terran boy? Isaak, you always were indiscrete in your tastes," the countess growled. Then she noticed the features of the sleeping boy. "Your special one?" She picked up the photo of schoolboy Dietrich on the bedside table. Isaak didn't like that smile on her face…

"Children, children, you're late. Just as well. Mein Herr has decided to follow up on Ivan's lead and took off for Albion," the Pilot, Fritzroy, stepped through the shattered door. He looked a little pale. "He took a little collection at the meeting for the trip," he rubbed the bite mark on his neck meaningfully. "We'll need a new treasurer since Mein Herr got too carried away. Lucky my blood is a bit too bitter for his liking. Oh, Scher, I see you have met Dietrich…"

* * *

_Ghetto Hospital gardens, Albion _

It had taken some time to shake off the attentions of the medical staff. Count Virgil had escorted the Queen for her monthly medical check-up. Lady Vanessa was still asleep when they left the ward. Patients and their visitors strolled under bright artificial lights timed to mimic the cycle of day and night Above. Flowers bloomed in this underground garden. Birds sang and butterflies fluttered lazily by as they sat on a secluded bench. Ana chased a butterfly playfully. Cecil ran his hand through his raven-black hair before he spoke. "Father, I suppose you may have been informed by Anais about the White Rose." Abel gave a slight nod.

"I was a member before that unfortunate incident in Rome, a couple of years before Uncle killed a would-be assassin. I was their messenger, running messages between Albion and the Continent. No, I have never met any of the Continental White Rose members. Nor do I know their identities. The Continentals are loads more secretive than us, matter of survival given the constant risk of attacks from the Orden. I believe you are aware of the massacre of the Milanese branch some decades back…" The Crusnik nodded. Cecil was speaking about the massacre of Caterina's mother and her family.

"We, Anais and me, had hopes that Ana would join the White Rose Society of Albion. We taught her. She is very intelligent, much like her father. She is fluent in English, Latin, German and Imperial, just to name a few, just as her father was," the knight smiled. "Dimitri was my tutor. He's my confidante too since Uncle was too busy with his work and Mother with the Ghetto welfare. I thought I knew him. The night he left, he handed me a package and made me swear on my knight's honour not to pry. I was to hand it to Her Majesty. If only I had viewed the disc, perhaps I wouldn't have found my mentor's head stuck on a pike…"

"In all honesty, your head would be next to my father's," Ana added bluntly. "I'll miss Albion." She sat down next to Cecil.

"Ana, you shouldn't have gone to look for that person. It's dangerous. And you shouldn't have killed that thief…" Cecil admonished the princess with the air of an indulgent uncle.

"That person hurt Cecil. That thief hurt Anais. I don't like it when people I like get hurt," Anastasia stooped over to tie her bootlace. Then she changed her mind. "Cecil, tie my bootlace, please." She stuck out her boot. Cecil resignedly knelt down to tie her bootlace. While he was tying the bootlace, the princess leant towards him. "I'll miss Cecil." She planted a little peck on his cheek before skipping off to play with a wandering cat.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ion Fortuna and Father Peter were leaving Carmen's ward when...

"Peter. It has been a while." Virgil's face betrayed no emotion on seeing his prodigal foster-son.

"Yes… Sir," Peter bit back the word 'father'. He was not too sure his foster father had forgiven him yet over his decision to join the Church. He had missed his foster mother's funeral to boot. "Have the others been well?" He decided it would be safest to ask after his fellow Neverland orphans.

"They are all employed in Her Majesty's service," Virgil replied curtly. "Wendy is currently employed as Her Majesty's personal attendant…" Ion decided to make himself scarce to allow them space to catch up. He stepped into the elevator and rode it towards the hospital's gardens. A bit of open air would be nice… _What the?_ The elevator lights went out and the motor ground to a halt. _A blinking blackout,_ Ion groaned. Little did he suspect the seriousness of the situation.

* * *

Almost at the exact moment Ion stepped into the elevator, Father Abel suddenly felt his blood run cold. He sensed a cold malevolent gaze on them. He looked up towards the hospital's top floors… In midair was a familiar silhouette. "CAIN!" Abel roared. Spontaneously, the nanomachines roared to life in his veins. Lightning arced through the garden, flooding the mainframe with a surge of electricity. The Ghetto was plunged into chaos as the power failed from the massive overload.

"Carmen!" Peter ran back into the darkened ward and promptly tripped. He groped around the inky blackness. "Peter, steady now, boy. The back-up power will come on soon," Virgil's calm voice echoed in the darkness. True enough, the greenish-pale emergency lights flickered on. Peter was reassured to find the life-sustaining machines still humming around Carmen. _Thanks, pa._ He turned towards the door but Virgil had gone, possibly to Her Majesty's side.

* * *

Lady Vanessa was awoken by the alarmed cries outside the ward. Her eyes took in the empty bed in the darkened room as the hospital's back-up generators kicked in, sustaining the most vital of equipment. _The Ghetto was in danger._ She rushed out of the ward and saw two winged figures sizzling with lightning and power, hovering above the gardens. _What the- Where was her son?_

"Lady Vanessa, the back-up generators, they're damaged in the surge. The remaining ones can't cope!" A youngish-looking Ghetto mechanic stopped her. The emergency communications must have escaped unscathed.

_Hadn't she been running the Ghetto since her brother moved into the diplomatic field?_ She forced herself to calm down. "Cut power to non-essentials. But keep the air pumps, emergency rescue and medical facilities running. Cut power to the factories if need be!"

"But the losses!"

"We will worry about the production losses later. Evacuate this hospital and sectors 3, 4 and 5 now. The key thing to save lives," Vanessa hurried to the hospital's main control room.

The hospital gardens were plunged into darkness as the secondary lights failed one by one. The winged figures burst through the Ghetto's steel and concrete roof in an explosion to the daylight world far above them. Steel and concrete crashed down on the Ghetto. Enfolded in Cecil's protective arms, Anastasia felt the hairs on the nape of her neck prickle with fear. She spun around. _The shadows! _

_

* * *

_

**Author's Notes**

The Ghetto's gonna take another beating and so's Albion. I am throwing everything together. Too fast? Too confusing?


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao.

I have not been receiving any reviews or flames at all. This can mean 2 things: first, I have no readers at all. Two, my story is boring enough not to be flamed or reviewed.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Miles away in Rome, Father Ivan savoured the look of terror on the princess' face. Contra Mundi had made his move a lot earlier than he had expected but no harm done. True, he had to cancel the afternoon service last-minute but his flock of ignorant parishioners weren't protesting. Luckily Fritzroy had given him a tip-off about the change of plans. _Dimitri's half-breed bastard will die today._ Torn to pieces by his shadow-hounds after he snatched the Star from her hands… _Time to say farewell to that awkward little embarrassment on the Flamvogel name…_

Standing before the altar in the middle of his circle of ancient runes formed from sand, Ivan began to chant the archaic words…

"Cecil…" Ana whined and buried her face in Cecil's shirt. The knight shielded her from the debris crashing around them, oblivious to the malevolent _shadows closing in on them, waiting to tear them to shreds. Hand over the Star, girl. Hand over the Star if you wish to live… _the shadows whisperedThe princess only clutched the pendant closer to her.

* * *

"Father Ivan!" _What the hell? Can't you read? The sign on the door there says services cancelled!_ He tried to ignore the insistent knocking. "Father Ivan! Open this door now!" Something thumped against the locked door once, then again. Ivan bit back his curses as the door flew open. Papal guard Sister Paula hurried in with two recruits. Ivan made an obscure gesture with his hand and the shadows skittered to the crannies of the church, obliterating the sand circle and runes. He forced a smile on his face and urged his visitors to join him in the parlour for some tea.

"Sorry about the door, Father. We thought something may have happened," a recruit apologized sheepishly. "It's alright, really," Ivan smiled. "I must have dozed off…"

"Apologies, we must question you regarding the disappearances in the neighbourhood," Paula's tone was curt. She spotted an unusually large amount of sand scattered around the priest. The church seemed a lot darker than she had remembered it.

* * *

Seth was enjoying a traditional English tea with scones and jam in her suite when she was rudely interrupted by the sound of a thunderstorm. Then a servant ran into the room. "Your Imperial Highness!" Seth rushed past the servant to the window on seeing the panic on his face. _Cain and Abel._ She recognized the figures grappling above the Albionian capital. "Stay back!" She ordered her Methuselah subjects. She didn't want any of them hurt when she opened the window. The afternoon sun was blazing on the city despite the lightning Abel had generated.

Seth leant out of her open window. Her brothers were demolishing the city below them in their single-minded duel to the death! She winced as Cain threw Abel through the Big Ben with a powerful blast. Coolly, she analyzed the situation. Cain must have fed recently on Methuselah blood. On top of his ability to activate his nanomachines 100 percent, he has an advantage over Abel, who must be at 80 at most and abstaining from blood. Sugar doesn't give quite the same power needed. She had to intervene somehow.

"Nanomachines, 80 percent…" She was taking a risk. Seth had not fed on Methuselah blood for some time. It was doubtful if she could even make the transition…

"Your Highness, please wait!" Mirka cried out. "You can't go out without feeding on blood. Let me…"

"No, my daughter, I can't, not from you…" She couldn't take the blood she needed from Mirka with her already weakened health. "Augusta, let me," a black-haired youth in a page's uniform stepped forward, narrowly avoiding the deadly shaft of sunlight through the open window.

"Ravenchild," Seth recognized the newcomer. The Terror of Minsk seized a butter knife from the tea table and ripped open a vein, letting the blood gush freely into a china teacup. Only when the cup was full was the knife removed from his mangled wrist. "Thank you," Seth accepted the cup offered to her. The page bound the still-bleeding wrist. It would heal soon, but the young Methuselah was awfully pale from blood loss. It was only with the help of Lady Asran, who had just arrived, he kept from collapsing.

The Empress gulped down the thick liquid, feeling the long dormant nanomachines within her stir to life. She unfurled her dark wings and summoned up her tridents. With a harsh battle cry, she swooped up into the fray. "Abel! Stop, you are destroying the city!" Seth shielded her brother with an energy barrier, long enough for him to disentangle himself from the wreck of a city double-deck. Abel understood. He soared up into the air, taking the fight over the English Channel and away from the Albion mainland. Cain followed in close pursuit. Seth hurried close on their heels.

"Our Empress' in danger and we can do nothing to protect her. I hope you're feeling proud of yourself," Mirka growled and wheeled herself out of the room. Asta bit back an expletive. The unconscious Methuselah in Asta's arms only let out a soft moan. "Poor kid," Asta murmured as she eased the Terror of Minsk onto a nearby couch. "You try real hard, don't you? But_ she_ doesn't seem to appreciate one bit."

* * *

In the Ghetto, Cecil had managed to get his near-hysterical charge into the dimly-lit corridors of the hospital. "Ana!" _The Queen._ Lord Virgil was with her. Cecil gave a brief bow before handing the princess to her grandmother. "What happened? Are we under attack from…"

"Contra Mundi," Cecil whispered. "The Father is fighting him…" A duel between Crusniks was highly dangerous due to the spontaneous amounts of energy generated. "Your Majesty, please come with us," Lord Virgil ushered them into the control room where Lady Vanessa was already mobilizing her team to control the damage inflicted. Vanessa looked up from the screens when the newcomers arrived. "Damages Above as well. My source reports a third figure joining them before they flew out over the Channel."

Esther let out a small sigh of relief. Her nation has been spared from further damage, for now. If Seth has joined Abel, they may be able to at least hold Cain off. She was aware of the tremendous energy required for the Crusniks to maintain their powers. It would be a matter of outlasting… She started praying.

* * *

"He has done it again, hasn't he?" Ion scowled. Finally freed from his elevator-prison, he was now with Peter watching the priest help stabilize the power to the wards from a secondary control room. He hated to admit it, but his partner was getting touchier with every encounter with the Orden and Contra Mundi. Now, the mere sight of his hated twin was sufficient to trigger an outburst from the Crusnik. _Poor Esther will have hell dealing with the damage._ And he thought the squabble last night with Grandmother was bad. Thankfully, Abel still had the presence of mind during those occasions not to…

"Peter, you there?" The intercom buzzed to life interrupting his thoughts. Peter picked up the communicator.

"Yes, Aunt Vanessa," Peter replied. "Stabilized power to the ICU and operating theatres. We have damage to Units 12 and 13 from debris. The patients are being evacuated."

* * *

"Good work, Peter. If everything goes well, we'll be having fish and chips for dinner. I hope you'll stay…" Vanessa added, trying to sound casual. Like the others in the main control room, her eyes remained glued to the radar screen that showed three blips over the Channel. Suddenly, one of the blips vanished from the screen. Esther screamed silently into her gloved hand as another blip vanished. The remaining blip was…

"Heading out over the Channel towards the Continent. Order pursuit?" Virgil asked calmly.

"Leave it, Virgil. I want search parties around where they vanished," Queen Esther composed herself. Time was important where the Channel's treacherous currents were concerned. "Get my sons, Gilbert and Albert. Summon an emergency meeting with all key ministers, including you and Vanessa. We need everyone who can be spared. Get the press in line to stop any senseless rumours. Cecil, please contact the Byzantium embassy or wherever they are staying. They may be able to offer us help… in the rescue." She did not want to even consider the possibility of a recovery operation. Mirka and the rest of Seth's entourage would definitely want to find their beloved Mother before she came to harm. It was going to be a long day and night for all of Albion.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

The anime was a little vague on Seth's powers. However, I assume that as a Crusnik, she will need Methuselah blood to increase her powers. Her powers are probably sonic blasts that can turn her enemies to dust as shown in the anime.

I took some more time to introduce the up-and-coming new noble in the Inner Circle of the Byzantium court, the Terror of Minsk. Please review whether this character should be given a bigger role in later chapters where court politics are concerned.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. If you are following the manga or novel, please treat this as AU. This fic is based on the anime.

Some sibling interaction between Abel and Seth here. I may be ending this fic soon.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

_Damn!_ Ivan cursed. His chance had slipped by while he was holed up in his stinking parlour making small talk with that nosy old Sister Paula and her moronic underlings. She had run him through a barrage of questions regarding the sisters who had vanished around his church. _Maybe he should consider hunting further a-field._ Seven disappearances in two months may be a little too much. He had just seen his unwelcome guests off when he sensed someone behind him.

"Pilot," Ivan narrowed his ice-blue eyes. The old vampire chuckled. Teleportation was one of his more useful abilities. It allowed him to keep tabs on things over great distance and some say even time. "The Master has survived though Isaak may be tied down putting him together for a while. My condolences on your plans, though. You tried to kill that little girl again?"

"I'll never touch Lorelei…" Ivan's heart raced even as he tried to brazen it out.

"Quit acting innocent, Ivan my boy. You know who I am referring to. The Flamevogel fraulein, she has great potential. With the correct guidance, she may prove a worthy asset to us," Fritzroy smiled.

"She is a half-bred mongrel…" Ivan spat.

"Ah, but blood is thicker than water, no? Especially Flamevogel blood. She has inherited the unique nature of your shared blood. Also, you know what they say; only a daughter of the Flamevogel line can resurrect the power that is lost. Unless you have a sister or daughter squirreled away somewhere, Ivan, you need her alive. Maybe you will find playing uncle to your taste…" With a swirl of his shadows, the Pilot was gone.

* * *

"Seth?" Abel opened his eyes, spitting and choking on salt water. Sea was all around them. His sister was keeping him afloat as she paddled against the strong currents of the Channel. Darkness had fallen. "Welcome back, Brother," Seth gasped. "You feel better?" She was tiring fast from the powerful current threatening to wash them out to the North Sea. 

"Where's Cain?" Abel gasped and tried to look around. He only saw the endless inky black waves and the starry velvet skies above.

"I saw him off after he knocked you out with that last blast," Seth replied. "He fled after I pelted him with a couple of my own sound blasts, especially when he started falling apart. Then I came down to stop you from being washed out to sea. Took me some time to locate you. Sorry I can't keep my Crusnik form up that long. By the way, how long has it been since you last fed on Methuselah blood?"

"About ten years back when Ion and I got surrounded by that rogue vampire's army in Tunisia… How long have you been swimming?" Abel started treading water. He had lost his heavy overcoat but Seth was still dressed in her heavy gown.

"About two hours. It's alright. I swim a hundred laps every morning back home…" Seth let out a small giggle before her tone became serious. "Keep this between us. There is something you should know about Esther's grandchild."

"What about her?"

"Her parentage. Her father, I suspect, is from one of the oldest houses…" A movement over the waves caught her attention. She waved her arms. "Ho, we're here! Over here!" _A boat?_ Abel could see it now, bobbing on the choppy sea, its searchlight skimming the waves for life. On hearing their cries, the boat sped towards them. A buoy was tossed to them.

Cecil Walsh reached over the side to pull Seth aboard as gently as he could. Astaroshe reached over the side with an arm and dragged Abel on board like a landed fish. To Abel's surprise, Father Peter was piloting the rescue craft. Ion handed the rescued pair dry towels. "The Duchess insisted on coming along," he explained. "The other boats thought the current may have washed you further east but she thought we ought to try this area first like that Minsk brat suggested." Ion frowned at the memory of that rude page he recalled.

"Well, Ravenchild's suggestion worked, didn't it? You Fortunas are always too hard on the kid," Astaroshe retorted.

"He's an impudent brat with no respect for his betters," Ion snorted. The Duchess ignored him. She turned a shade of green as the boat was buffeted by waves. The sea was getting choppier as the wind picked up, a prelude to a coming squall.

"Hey, old man, get us back to shore before I really get seasick!" Peter obligingly cranked the speed up and turned the bow towards shore.

"Ion," Abel piped in a barely audible voice. "How many people did I kill this time?" The consequences of his reckless act were beginning to sink in with the cold wind as they approached shore. Ion did not reply. He couldn't bring himself to give his partner the tongue-lashing he swore he would, at least not when the priest was in such a pathetic, dejected state. "What's done can't be undone, Brother. If you hunt demons, be wary that you do not turn into one yourself. Don't let him provoke you," it was Seth who replied. His sister had always shown wisdom beyond her tender years, even back then.

On reaching shore, Seth was hurriedly whisked away by the Duchess of Kiev on a waiting airship. Cecil escorted the priests and Ion to an undamaged inn on the outskirts of Londonium since the palace had suffered some damage. Exhausted, Abel fell into a deep sleep as soon as he hit the pillow. In Westminster, the Queen had came out of seclusion to marshal her people one more time in the face of this sudden disaster with her sons and trusted councillors, both Methuselah and Terran alike, at her side. The city would recover as she had done before.

"Count?" Father Peter yawned and hung up the phone, having reassured himself that Carmen was in good hands. That fish-and-chips dinner with his foster family was definitely off given the current situation. "Will you be heading back to Rome soon?"

Ion nodded. "After we apologize to Esther for the trouble we caused." He left out the bit about Esther's grandchild.

* * *

High above Europe, the Byzantium airship was buffeted by the furious North Sea squall. Rested and refreshed, the Augusta sat beside the vampire known as the Terror of Minsk. He was poring over the maps, holding the helm and charting their course for the Imperial capital between sips of the restorative cocktail of blood tablets and brandy Astaroshe had mixed up. The Duchess had taken to bed pleading airsickness from the wildly pitching airship. Mirka had not fared any better. The crew on watch were making sprints to the restroom every now and then. 

The Terror of Minsk remained unperturbed by the turbulent weather. He was somewhat suspicious of technology, preferring to steer manually. Engrossed in his work, Ravenchild did not notice Seth. Seth noted that he was still looking a little pale from the earlier blood loss.

"The ship's now on autopilot. She will see us in Byzantium by tomorrow evening." Grey eyes looked from the maps with a start as the Empress switched the airship to autopilot. The system was robust enough to steer past a hurricane if needed. "Now finish your drink and get some rest. The autopilot will not fail us, it never has."

"But," the page made to protest but Seth placed a hand firmly on the page's shoulder and whispered. "This is an order. You can continue tomorrow morning." With a sigh, Ravenchild resignedly finished his drink and took his leave with a curt bow. Life has been very hard on Ravenchild as it was.

* * *

_Rome, wee hours of the morning_

Eris paced the corridor outside the chamber where AX's fate would be decided. She could sense waves of tension oozing out. Tres stood at attention in the corridor. The newspapers and radio in Rome were silent. A blackout on the media by the Inquisition could only mean something big has happened. _Should they ask Carmen to scout the airwaves? _The holographic figure of Carmen was suggesting she eavesdrop on the meeting of cardinals inside when the door swung open and the flustered looking cardinals exited. "AX has been granted a reprieve, for now," Cardinal Benedictia whispered to the abbess in passing. "Last night, we received news of a disturbance in Albion…"

"A disturbance?" Eris asked. _If Abel and Ion were involved, or the Orden…_

"A black-winged figure and a white-winged one were sighted. You should ask Father Peter when he gets back. After all, he's gone to Albion," Benedictia stopped, having made sure that the others would not notice her conversation.

"Peter is in Albion?" Carmen cut in. "But he is not on any airship passenger list!"

"He used an alias when he hopped on an express train to Calais after visiting his mentor at the St. Lazarus' Home. Father Lazarus Walsh then boarded the Channel ferry as William Walters. Does he make a habit of travelling incognito whenever he visits a certain hospital in Albion?" Benedictia asked innocently. "By the way, my source in Albion states that he is probably intending to book a ticket back over the next few days." Carmen muttered a curse before flickering out.

Eris laughed. "Cardinal Benedictia, you really shouldn't encourage her."

"Why not? We both know they were meant for each other. Don't they argue like a married couple?" Benedictia had a twinkle of mischief in her eye. "Niall's gone to secure Thomas' release. It's tough on you though, since all those able young men left with Father Havel…"

"Have you found them?" Eris asked although she could guess at the answer.

"Sadly, yes. All dead and buried over Europe. Most died in mysterious circumstances. Uncanny coincidence, isn't it? I didn't mention it to the others though." If she had, Cardinal Avignon would probably pounce on those deaths to discredit AX. "Are you sure you don't want Niall to send some of our men over to AX?"

"I thank you for your generous offer, Cardinal. However, we should be able to manage," Eris replied tactfully. Most high-ranking officials did not know about the Crusnik yet and Eris would like to keep it that way. "I intend to visit some very special children shortly." Lady Caterina had used her diplomatic clout and knowledge to recruit her men from all walks of life. Havel had relied heavily on his past ties with the Inquisition, not to mention his family in Bohemia. Eris preferred to scout for potential recruits in the numerous orphanages throughout Europe. _Hadn't she found loyal young Thomas that way?_


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. If you are following the manga or novel, please treat this as AU. This fic is based on the anime.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_Morning in Berlin_

Dietrich awoke to find himself in a canopied bed with a bandage around his neck. He scowled as he tried to piece together what happened. He had been ill, poisoned by a little Albionian brat. Not ust any ordinary brat but Dimitri's little girl. Then he remembered being brought to Isaak's though a haze. Next was… he cursed himself. _That blond girl vampire! How could he, a Magister in the Orden fall for her illusions? His parents hated him. His father tried to kill him. And he killed them. End of story there._

"Good to see you are back from the dead, Marionettespieler." The smell of tobacco and that cold voice could only mean… "Isaak." Dietrich pulled himself into a sitting position and met the eyes of his mentor. "It has been a while…" A sharp rapping at the door broke off his words.

"Magus, Mein Herr is back and he wishes to see you in the lounge immediately!"

"Coming!" Isaak replied and swiftly stepped out of the bedroom, leaving Dietrich alone. _What was to happen to him now? What plans did von Mansfield have up his sleeve for him and Isaak?_ Cold fingers of fear curled around the Puppetmaster's heart.

* * *

The squall had calmed when the sun rose. Seth rose from her bed. She was not too surprised when she stepped into the steering room and found Ravenchild already up and at the helm. His page-boy uniform was neatly pressed and starched. She stepped and walked down the corridor to the lounge. Astaroshe was already reading a book in there.

"Empress," she stood to attention. Seth motioned for Astaroshe to resume her seat. "How do you find your tovarisch?" she asked as she sat down next to the Duchess.

"Forgive me for my frankness. Ravenchild is a worse brat than Ion was. I am not too surprised the Duchess of Moldova refuses to acknowledge him," Asta gave a fond smile. "That and his past. Terror of Minsk is not a fit title for a child of the House of Moldova. Yet he wants to be accepted."

"What will happen if Ion were to return and claim his place as Mirka's heir? I want your frank opinion."

Astaroshe closed her eyes as if in thought. "I would expect Ion's life to be in danger. Ravenchild can be most deadly as an opponent in battle. He trashed Duke Baybars last month on the practice field. Advise Father Abel to keep his tovarisch away from the Empire." The image of how their last non-diplomatic mission ended was still fresh in her mind. Four severed rebel heads gift-wrapped and topped with black silk ribbons was something even the seasoned Duchess of Kiev wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry. Count Ravenchild's handiwork always demanded attention, especially when he had those 'gifts' delivered at the grand meeting of nobles. A clear warning to all who dare to raise a hand against their Mother.

* * *

Abel awoke to a ruckus in their room. Carmen and Peter were arguing again in their half-teasing, half-serious manner. Peter was trying to get dressed while Carmen mercilessly berated him for his secret trips to Albion. Peter retaliated by pretending to ignore her and whistling 'My Darling Clementine'. Ion's bed, next to his, was empty. The Count might be having breakfast somewhere, if he hasn't gone to apologize to Esther. The sun had risen and was shining down on the relatively unscathed neighbourhood.

"Morning, Father," Carmen stopped her argument. "I have secured passage for the three of you on the night ferry since all Londinium airfields are closed. Count Ion has gone out but he will meet you at eight at the wharf." Ion would keep out of the sun until sunset. He was probably waiting out in the Ghetto.

"Thanks, Carmen. Oh, please book one more ticket. I am expecting someone to join our party," Abel replied, remembering the red-haired princess he had promised Esther to take care of. _Would she be waiting with Ion? Or… _

"Aw, Carmen, you forgot to tell him the message the boot boy brought," Peter added as he tied his bootlace. "Wendy invited you to watch the changing of the guard at three o'clock today. Though I think they will not be having the change of guards since Buckingham's gate was blown to bits…" he almost bit his tongue when Abel looked at the floor. "I'll be going since Wendy would be there…" he added hastily.

* * *

As it turned out, Wendy met them at three o'clock, as did Anastasia. The Albionian princess was dressed simply in a navy-blue travelling coat with a matching hat. Her brilliant red hair was braided in a pair of plaits. She carried a suitcase in one hand. The Star hung around her neck and she toyed absently with the chain. The pair strolled nonchalantly out through the palace gates. The grounds were strangely empty of guards. Abel wondered if this had been arranged. Wendy and Peter stood off to a side to have a private chat.

"We're in a pretty pickle of trouble, Peter. Are you really leaving so soon?"

"Sorry, Wendy, I have things to see to in Rome. Send my regards to Virgil, Aunt Vanessa, Cecil and the others, will you?"

Abel turned his attention away from the pair and to his newest charge. Ana stood on the sidewalk stoically. "Pleased to meet you, Father Abel. I am Anastasia Flamevogel. I intend to go to Rome in your company. I intend to serve the Church as a novice. Grandmother accepts your apology and sends her forgiveness and blessings." Her voice was crisp and the clipped Albionian accent precise. There was no hint that the speaker was anything but a self-assured young lady both mature and well-raised. The name she introduced herself by did not slip his attention. Ana was burning her bridges with Albion and her royal household.

"Ana, will you regret leaving this?" Abel whispered. There was so much Anastasia could have done in Albion, as Cecil had pointed out.

"Regret? Albion will survive. She always has, in one form or another. That is the very nature of the Albionian people. Uncle Gilbert and Albert do not need me around here. They can help Grandmother and they will lead Albion after Grandmother is gone. The White Rose will survive, with or without me." The girl's slender fingers twisted the chain around her neck. There was the slightest tremor in her voice, though she tried bravely to dismiss it. "I may miss Grandmother and Cecil, but I will get over it in time, wouldn't I?" She smiled wanly at Abel for reassurance.

_Flamevogel… Bird of flame… Firebird…_ Something rang out from the distant past in the priest's mind but he could not make sense of it. _That group of colonists… _A sense of foreboding washed over him. He shook off the feeling of unease. This was Esther's grandchild, a thirteen year old girl with limited experience of life outside the confines of the palace.

"This is a new beginning for me," Anastasia replied with a sigh possibly of relief. "Let's go."

Anastasia Flamevogel. Brought up as the pampered darling granddaughter of Queen Esther yet hidden from the public eye. At the same time, she was educated as a potential leader of Albion. She had displayed a shocking nonchalance to taking a human life. Indeed, she did not show any remorse over the attempt to poison Dietrich or shooting that thief in Devil's Acre. She only expressed grief at having to hurt Cecil when he was under Dietrich's control. Cecil had confirmed this incident with Abel and possibly his uncle. Still, she had showed a vulnerable side to her. She was a Methuselah who has no ill-effect from the sunlight. _An enigma._ At least Esther was brash and straightforward, some might say painfully so.

_Who are you, Anastasia Flamvogel?_ Abel asked silently as they go into a cab with Peter. Anastasia kept silent as the cab pulled off in the direction of the wharves.

* * *

Watching from behind the tinted glass of the unscathed palace library, Sir Virgil let out a sigh of relief. That sword that threatened to tip the balance in Albion was gone. "I'll miss her, brother," Vanessa murmured. "As will Her Majesty, Wendy and Cecil. Especially Cecil…"

"I think Cecil will be even more relieved than I am about her going. She was starting to take an interest in Cecil. One of a romantic nature."

"Surely not!" Vanessa gasped. "But then again… You did hold a torch for Queen Brigit a long time ago, and she did kiss you once at the Christmas party…"

Virgil frowned. "We didn't spot that mistletoe in the doorway… Anyhow, I used vials of our blood, including Cecil's, for comparison with the princess' after she showed that peculiar trait. They shared some very unique gene sets that are not commonly found in Albionian or Continental populations."

"Are you suggesting Dimitri's not Ana's father?" Vanessa blanched. _It was impossible!_ Cecil was not particularly close to the late Princess Laura. Their relationship was cool and polite as befitted that between a royal and a loyal courtier.

"No, Cecil and Ana are not_ that_ closely related. Based on the data, I would say they are possibly biological uncle and niece. I will have to inform Cecil of my findings," Virgil replied curtly. If they got lucky, Ana would take her vows to the Church and become a nun while in Rome.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

It's the end of the Albion arc. Should I continue with what happens in Rome? Or move the action to the Byzantium court? And throw in the RCO while I am at it? There may be a sequel.


End file.
